We have been trying to improve our side of the diminutive lawn that we share with our neighbours, but it’s not easy. The boys, who used to rent the place next door and who liked to park on the lawn or what was once a lawn, are dearly departed, leaving behind ruts and bareness. I’m can’t say that I pine for their, but the new renters bring their own troublesome proclivities.
They’re smokers: smokers who, apparently, can’t bother to find themselves a proper place to butt out when they’re done. Nope: their solution is to fling em.
Sigh. Of all of the houses on the street, why are we the only adjacent to an absentee landlord? I’m sure there are many wonderful renters in the world, as we once were, but can’t the guy screen his clients just a little bit? Is that too much to ask?
I think the butt-tossers deserve a prodigious kick in their butts — so to speak.
Moving on …
Here’s a garden conundrum. Who planted those tulips (below)? I sure can’t remember doing it, and if I had, I can hardly fathom that I would plant such a wild hodgepodge. I would be more likely to choose one or two colours carefully and not have five colours (some just coming into bloom) and two styles of tulips — single and double.
Perhaps I did it during a feverish illness — that I also can’t recall having.
The guy who used to own the place next door, before the renters came, did have a horrid mishmash of tulips that I quite detested. I thought I had eradicated them all last year and had dug up all of the old bulbs, but I have to think that I might have missed a few. Or maybe Gary came back to play a joke on me when he was feeling frisky in the middle of the night. Naw: Gary was last frisky in 1959 and and hasn’t told a joke for going on two-and-a-half decades.
Is someone out to get me? Is the universe trying to teach me something? If so, the universe should give up because I think I have learned my lessons rather well, and if I haven’t, I’m too old to clue into abstruse hints such as these. I’ll have to start calling it the looneyverse if this sort of nonsense continues.
If I don’t end up in the looney bin first, that is.