On Dubious Nature of the Use of a Microscope

Since it’s next to impossible for me to love what I can’t see, as soon as my kids trot off to school, I plow my way through a blizzard of LEGO® blocks in my son’s bedroom and grab an old microscope off a dusty bookshelf.

He really needs to clean this room, I grumble, which, of course, when used by a mother is very different from whining and complaining habitually practiced by her children.  I slam the bedroom door shut behind me, wondering where in the world did he pick up his housekeeping habits.

Armed with the microscope I step outside into the blazing sun.

With all the weeds popping up left and right, focusing on anything desirable growing in our yard is like finding a screwdriver when you need it inside our garage. So, I swing the microscope around and am blinded by the sprawling emerald of the thick lush lawn of the honorary lifetime member of Better Homes and Gardens Yard of the Month club – AKA my next-door neighbor Bob. The sight generates waves of nausea interspersed with a desire to leave this world and attend to the greener pastures thereafter.

Feeling green with queasiness and an emotion I can’t quite identify I sway back and forth, with the microscope still attached to my eyeball.  Suddenly, Ka-booom! I spot an enormous mutant weed – and flowering weed at that!

I am horrified and strangely pleased at the same time.

Hah! I knew it! I knew there were weeds in HIS yard!

I drop down on all fours and start carefully inspecting his turf with the microscope. Sure enough, there are about SEVEN superhumongousy enormous mutant weeds – located mostly next to my property line - and the total of three of them about to bloom and spread their nasty seeds all throughout the neighborhood.