I Feel Guilt. Pantloads of it. Sorta.
March 30, 2006
I did something today. This slightly selfish act was destructive to our environment, our lovely world that we are supposed to take care of. So for that reason, I feel slightly kinda sorta guilty.
There were reasons. This thing was creating havoc in my backyard every season. The local schoolchildren put themselves in harm’s way by standing on my shitty chain link and nearly killing themselves to get to temptation. Through my pregnancy with Thomas, I secretly wanted to sit quietly with the hose and knock the little fuckers off my fence as a fuckyouverymuch for stealing from my yard.
This thing made a mess. Every year after it was done dropping it’s load, I would have to walk all over the yard and pick up it’s soggy bombs. Neighbours offered to jar the load. Ha. No way would I eat that shit, especially after all those bratty kids have been touching the load.
This thing attracted my 3rd least favorite insect: bees. 1st and 2nd are earwigs and ladybugs , respectively. Yes, earwigs are an obvious bug to hate, but ladybugs? Well there’s a new breed of ladybugs here and they stink, take over the house and they bite. Just ask my left tit, which shrivels up during every shower ever since it happened to her last summer. Ladybugs are no longer ladies. They are nasty bitches. Bitter ex-wives, maybe.
Back to my guilt. By now you’ve got to know this thing is a fruit tree.
Well our stupidfuckingpeartree was cut down today. By me. I took great pleasure in cutting it’s branches before lobbing off it’s upper torso. The stupidfuckingpeartree got me back by making that heavy piece land on me, scratching my arms up really well. Other than being attacked by the stupidfuckingpeartree, it felt good. I was sweating. I was using a roll saw that rocked the Casbah. Dude. Have I told you I love tools? Oh yeah baby. Show me yer Black & Decker.
I thought, that upon Dylan’s arrival home from school, I would be having to console him, wipe his tears and bribe him into breaking a smile with any form of sugar. Not so. At first, he was taken aback, but verbal diarrhea took over and I told him he could build his tree house, complete with ladder in one of our bigger trees. He started at the larger tree, put his hands on his hips and said, “Yeah….I see it now.” Really kid? Cuz I don’t. Your Dad is a horrible procrastinator. The Home Depot commercial? That’s so fake. If you get a treehouse, I’ll eat my underwear. I’m not saying your Dad can’t build a treehouse, I’m sure he can. I’m just saying that the stupidfuckingpeartree has been on the honeydo list for 4 years. Hope your treehouse will be a cool hangout when you’re 16 and you have to build it yourself. Oh and I hope the chicks dig it. Righteous.
March 31st, 2006 at 2:33 am
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