Death and Destruction

Before I let myself loose on the weekend, I thought given the hideous amount of money I've spent on my garden and house plants (and accessories), I really ought to get out there and be productive (yeah I know, what's that about?).

First, I dealt with my greenery indoors. Jeez, what is it with houseplants? They're so bloody fussy. I've got one bitching I've over-watered it. It's curling up it's leaves and makes drowning noises every time I walk past it. I've got another bitching I'm not watering it enough. Ungrateful bastard, started gurgling when I watered it and moaned it's not a pond plant. Honestly, damn thing insisted the water level should not be up to the top of the planter. I had to empty it out again. Huh. Watering them apparently isn't good enough either. The orchids and foliage plants moaned their leaves were too dry. Please could I mist them? Bloody hell. Who do they think I am? Their bloody slave? And then, and then, (get this) they whinged about needed a change of view. Mug that I am, I had to turn them round. Ungrateful wretches, see if I re-home any more of these bloody strays.

That shenanigans left me in a grumpy mood. So out I go into my garden. Long term readers will know what my garden means to me. It's my Happy Place. Unfortunately, all the local snails and slugs also agree. Those nasty little invertebrates seem to think my only reason for existence is to feed them. The slimy buggers have done their best to reduce my spring planting to twigs. So much for my winter flowering pansies and rose-coloured bellis. Humpf. If they can't eat the leaves, they're eating the flowers. Well, I fixed them. Like a demented Tinkerbell I floated through my garden sprinkling blue fairy pellets to ruin their dinner. Hah! Take that; you pretties-munchers. Bwhahahahaha!

What passes for my lawn, which is actually a collection of different grasses and moss (lots of bloody moss, there's more moss than grass), it needs to have the last dose of weed'n'feed. I've been glued to the weather reports for 3 dry days for the month since I've been back from Trinidad. Yesterday was the first dry day forecasted. Unfortunately, due to the fact I have to work for a living (yeah, I know, commiserate with me) I couldn't get into the garden til the evening, at which point I didn't want to. This morning I go to do my sprinkly business and then, three quarters of the way through, I bloody well run out of weed'n'feed.

Oh come on.

You know what this means don't you? It means another trip to the damned garden centre. It means having to find the will-power to walk past all the pretties. Given I'm struggling with 'no' at the moment and my poor credit card is huddled in the corner rocking, crying and muttering to itself, I really don't hold out any hope of making it through with just the one item.