Tag Archives: gardening

I’m On Edge?

Maybe I am.

Sure, being single sucks — but I thought I was fine until last Thursday. I was out in the garden, yanking weeds, whistling Dixie, and a handful of other tunes.

That is, until the honking started.

Relentless.

All coming from Doug’s house.

I pulled off my gardening gloves and headed over.

The moment he saw me, Doug shouted, “Go back home, Mr. Edgy!”

What the hell was he talking about?

I was the one minding my own business.

He was the one sitting in the driver’s seat, blaring his horn at god only knows what.

“You alright, Doug?”

“Am I alright?”

He walked toward me — a momentary break from the honking.

“You’re the one always on edge. Always coming over, complaining about one thing or another.”

“Doug, you’re the one blaring the horn.”

“See what I mean?”

“I was checking on you. Making sure you’re okay.”

“Go home. Doug. Find a hobby. Knitting would be perfect for you.”

I left without a word.

Hopped on Amazon.

Bought this knitting kit.

Two days later, I set up a camping chair on my driveway, adjacent to my car.

Opened the kit and went to town on a winter hat.

Every few minutes, I’d pause from knitting to blare my horn.

Doug, sadly, never came to check on me.

A few other neighbors, however, glanced over with grave concern.

“All’s well!” I called out. “Just working on a new project.”

In between the bundles of yarn — and through these words on the page is an affiliate link.

Doug’s Funhouse?

Doug’s Funhouse sounds like the title for an orgy porn. Guarantee you, it’s not.

He’s away on a reunion with old friends…literally. Doug might be the youngest one in attendance.

While he’s away, Doug wants to assure his plants stay alive. Why he asked me to tend to his plants is beyond me. One plant, resembling a young money tree, took a turn for the worse. Its leaves were bright, dark green when Doug first left. Three days later, they’ve browned.

There was a time when I thought I had a green thumb. Tended to a few gardens where cucumbers exploded to the hundreds. But isn’t that what cucumbers do?

Getting back to this funhouse concept, I was tempted initially to tidy his entire home. Everything similar would go into their own separate boxes. As I counted the number of categories of things Doug owned, I would buy Walmart out with all their plastic boxes. I’d still run short and then have to take a trip to Staples. No…thank…you

Organizing another person’s crap is no fun, anyhow. So, I sat on Doug’s massage chair, blasted Lonesome Doves, and pretended to be an eighty-two-year-old kleptomaniac. The vibration of the chair was so fierce, I couldn’t hear a thing..or maybe that was just me moaning?

Moaning from the vibration…not from being a sick pervert.

There’s only so much vibrating a man can do in one day. Just as I was about to head home, I saw it. The words “Soil Tester” was poking out of a pile of mail long before Doug head out on this reunion.

I pulled it out from under the mail. Turned it on and inserted the metal spike into each plant. All sorts of signals went off. I was alerted what needed water, what needed to be placed in sunlight and what would be left as is.

This soil moisture gauge is something else. Almost magical? I’m certain that money tree will turn around in a matter of days.

Honestly, this little device might be the only reason Doug still has a jungle to come home to.

For a second, I almost stuck the gauge up my ass, to see if I needed moisture, sun or if I was all good. Good thing reason stepped in.

There are two affiliate links in this post. Do with it as you will.