Tuesday, February 19, 2013

The Exterminator



I shake my head to quiet the howling dogs and refocus my attention on the business at hand.

My eyes just about pop out of my sockets  as I see my yard as if for the first time.  Sprawled before me in the late morning sunlight is a field of... weeds! There is Crabgrass, Pennywort, Sedge, Goosegrass, Button weed… In fact, I see nothing but the weeds there. A wave of nausea washes over me.

At that very moment, an utterly preposterous thought crosses my mind.

Is it possible that in some parallel universe of the garden of my soul Whining might be sharing the same turf with its like-minded companions - Complaining, Grumbling, Criticizing, Comparing, perhaps even Judging, and Who-Knows-What-Else…?

I laugh the outlandish thought off as an insignificant, completely irrelevant distraction from what I really should be doing and resolutely turn to the lawn. I have heard the field of weeds calling my name and I will not be distracted.  I respond with wholesale abandon.

I will NOT allow THIS on MY watch!! Only over my DEAD body!!
 

I dive in head first and dig like a rabid squirrel, dirt flying, a mountain of pulled-out weeds next to me growing by the second. I am in the zone. I have finally found the purpose of my existence.

I am the GREAT weed EXTERMINATOR!
 I am the end of all crabgrass.  I am the black hole for every button weed!

Despite the heat, the dirt, the sweat, I actually feel pretty good about my new-found identity and the glorious mission it entails. Vision of weed-free garden dances in my head like a Sugar Plum fairy. As adrenaline pumps through my body, I hardly notice that I have doubled up the speed and intensity of digging. I am on the roll.

Suddenly, a tiny voice yanks me right off my high stampeding horse.

Mommy, what is this lady doing??!!?

            

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