I am, without a doubt, a brown thumb. When I love and care for a plant it thrives... it's just that after a few weeks I lose interest and, well, everything dies. Or the weeds take over. Again.
Map Guy and I have this vision of growing our own food, maybe even having some chickens. He's even planted seeds before and enjoyed watching them sprout before becoming distracted and they ended up being strangled by weeds. Turns out the lose-interest-everything-dies thing isn't confined to the women in this house.
I sprayed the yard to kill the weeds a few weeks ago (you can
send your angry "you're killing the planet with chemicals" email to me
at firstname.lastname@example.org) and then spent this afternoon on my hands and knees pulling them out of our back lawn. Bindii is a bitch. Not to be confused with Bindi, who I'm sure is quite lovely when you get past the unnatural happiness she radiates.
I'd clear an area and move on, only to look back and see five more of those little fuckers that I swear weren't there before. After a few hours my hands covered in vicious Bindii injuries (because I wasn't clever enough to get gloves first) and my back was in spasms. Which I'm convinced means I now have tetanus and will soon die a protracted and rather painful death.
I've heard so many people say that pulling weeds is therapeutic but to me that sounds like complete bollocks (I did however find the glass of chardonnay I skolled afterwards much more therapeutic).
On surveying the rest of the Bindii riddled lawn and it was all I could do to not to put a match to it and watch those bastards burn. I have it on good authority that Bindii is the number one cause of suicide in Australia. I can see why.
Do you enjoy gardening? Do you find weeding therapeutic? You're quite welcome to come to my house for some free therapy. Because I'm giving like that.