Gardening (or, No One Ever Cared for my Garden)

I had a relatively tame weekend, which was pretty nice.  Friday Night was the big night out, with two former high school friends.  The former only applies to the ‘high school’ part, cause we don’t go to high school together any more.  Cause we graduated.  See how that works?  Then read it again. 

Luna Park was the destination, a nice little joint over on La Brea about 100ft north of Wilshire.  Delicious steak, excellent Martini’s (they had Hanger One, the new hot vodka, which I’m delightfully keen on).  Again, this is a local shop that I will have to add to my list of places to take visitors.  Then again it seems like every place I go to gets added to the list. 

In other news, I think a bum has been breaking into my place at night, punching me in the right jaw, and then leaving.  Either that or I just have a sore right TMJ.  It’s probably the latter, because as far as I can tell there isn’t anything missing from my garbage.  Tonight I will set up an intricate alarm and pulley system to notify me if said bum returns.  That means I should probably sleep with a gun or baseball bat for when the alarm goes off.  But I don’t have either of those, the best it gets is a hammer or a pair of garden shears.  Maybe I could tie the hammer and garden shears together to make nunchucks.  And there we have it, tonight I will jump out of bed at 2:30am in the morning with my homemade hammer-garden-shears nunchucks in hand after the alarm goes off, yelling "Keep your stinky mitts off my jaw muscle, you filthy hobo!". 

The real point of this post was that I did about 3 hours of garden work in my front yard today.  I sprayed for bugs, clipped unnecessary or stray branches/stems, and cleaned about 20 years worth of built up dead junk behind the flowers.  Ew.  What’s worse is that around my hedge wall, I can just stick my hand in there, grab, and come out with a handful of dead stuff and cobwebs.  Looks like I have another weekend or two of this.  Or I could just put up with the general poor appearance of the garden and added bugs that live behind there.  But I’m me, and that won’t McFly.

In the following week I will tell a tale of great length and depth, involving my quest for the One Dining Table.  Ready yourself.