A 5-post collection

So I Might Have Poisoned Some People...

Not on the scale of ratsak for sugar. No. It was round-up. On weeds.

How can that poison people, you ask.

These were weeds on the fence that we’re fixing up so the dog can’t get through. Hubby told me to go spritz the weeds along the fence line, so I did. Fast forward a few minutes and Hubby and Brother-in-law have now decided to go whipper-snip the back fence and pull all the weeds out.

The last time I used round-up, I had diarrhoea for two days.

Say what you will about the Monsan-toerags evil ways, but they do know how to make shit that kills things.

This time, I insisted that everyone wash.

I don’t know if that’s enough. I washed the last time and I still got the quirblies in the intestinal region. I hope the use of extra soap helped matters.

Maybe it soaked into the plants before anyone laid their hands on them.

Maybe extra lashings of soap will help, this time.

I won’t know until the time for innard rebellion has passed.

At least the dead plants are on our side of the fence. No need to worry about inadvertently poisoning the neighbour’s cows.

They sell this shit where kids can grab it. Yikes.

Clever Dog, Not Smart Dog.

The hound, by daylight known as Max, loves rounding up our neighbour’s cows. I’m pretty certain that the neighbours feel less than charitable about that.

Another neighbour dislikes Max barking at the cows, the birds, etc. while he’s on his leash and has complained. Twice. I’m sure he has a few names for the dog that aren’t printable.

So in order to keep both neighbours happy, we have been attempting to fix

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Lies, Damn Lies, and Statistics

Someone, somewhere, theorised that we spend half our lives waiting for something to happen.

Be that in a queue or in waiting rooms, or sitting around and waiting for someone in power to get the thumb out of their divot and get things done.

I, currently, have wasted half my day waiting for the men of the house to get their hairy arses into gear so we can finally finish fixing that fucking fence. They apparently spent all night programming - at

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Nostalgia For Never Was

Remember all those sitcoms where people helped people out? The dream worlds like The Waltons or Leave It To Beaver? If a Neighbour was experiencing trouble, the whole neighbourhood pitched in to help.

I’m more convinced than every that it was just a dream. An impossible utopia that everyone pretends was real so they can say, “things were better when…”

In the real world, some busybody Neighbour would have reported the Cleavers to CPS because their kid

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Due to Circumstances Beyond My Control...

I had to spend my “me money” on groceries.

You might not think this is such a big freakin’ deal. You’re entitled to your opinions. Hell, you’re entitled to tl;dr everything I write. Just like I’m entitled to write what I want, when I want.

And, right now, I want to vent some spleen.

I don’t spend a lot on myself for several reasons: 1) I’m hella fussy.

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