Pathetic Gasbags Succumb to Foul Weather and Exhaustion

Feeling guilty, because I've done no yardwork since Tuesday. It's Friday, raining and my son and I are both feeling ill from something we ate at lunch. We came home and collapsed. First thing I did was play with my black border collie (some think she's part lab, but I don't see it). No matter how tired I am, she's been inside all day and if I can't manage a walk, I can at least thrill her with some Frisbee tossing. She'll do anything to have me play Frisbee. It's better than treats. All I have to do is say "Frisbee" and she's doing the Happy Dog dance.

I weighed myself - at least 5 pounds of air bloated me up since lunch. What the hell did we eat that caused this? Can't be middle age because my 18 yr old has it too.

Then I slept. As I fell asleep I visualized ripping those wimpy Azalias out of the ground. Don't like Azalias or heather. Out go all the rest of the heather and the last of the bottle brush. Just rip it all out and dump it in the debris bin. Out comes that weird low and creepy evergreen bush that traps leaves and refuses to let me rake them out. Leaving nothing but ferns and trees that have been pruned - severely, I'll be finally done with the front - except for the bark mulch. Ferns not pruned severely - just dead fronds removed. I like the ferns. Can't get rid of the trees unless I can find someone to cut them down. I may treat the area with caseron and then start dumping rocks in it. There's a lot of rock around here and I don't think I want it in back.

My father used to garden by ripping everything out of the ground sometimes. It was like some kind of purge. Just get rid of it all and start over. My mother didn't like it, but what could you do? If you're bipolar and probably autistic, you're going to do what you are driven to do and having someone complain about it just drives you that much harder. I don't think Dad ever ripped out the raspberries, though. Those were his favorites and mine too. If I can grow raspberries, I'm at one with my earth, my dirt, my tacky tiny yard in a terrorized trailer park.

Tomorrow I borrow the long handled pruner and get serious with the trees. Pray for my neck.
going back to sleep...