THE GREATEST OLDIES OF ALL TIME

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the bitter, Alanis Morisette-style irony

This morning I awoke to the sounds of frolicsome cats and gentle rain. I don't believe that it rained even one bloody time for the entire month that I have been taking care of my thesis advisor's garden. Last night, since I didn't have to go to Market Research, I went over to the house, intending to water late so as to minimize the moisture lost to evaporation. From far up the block I noticed that the sidewalk was wet. I had been warned to make sure to turn off the hose at the house upon departure each visit, so as not to flood the yard. My sense of guilt has been growing steadily with each plant-scorching day, so I quickened my pace, choosing not to run only because it would be medically inadvisable in such conditions. Upon arrival, I saw that some enterprising soul had hooked up a sprinkler to the hose, which was playing merrily over the front yard. Was this the work of that neighbour who had been so carefully monitoring my work all along? Was he trying to show me up? I took a moment to curse myself for not having punched him out while I had the chance. However, after doing some reconnaisance work, I determined that there was evidence to indicate that the FAMILY was back from their Grand Canyon adventure, so I just slunk away into the deepening twilight. I had meant, before they returned, to try to gather up as many of the brown and crunchy leaves as I could and stuff them into the compost, in much the same manner as any reasonable person would dispose of a dead body found cluttering up the yard (while no one else is looking). Instead, I went to the grocery store and bought food for my cats. Only organisms that possess the ability to yell at me are likely to survive under my care.

9:36 a.m. - 2006-07-25
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