Weeds

Last night my roommate and I (Have I mentioned she’s the best roommate EVER! My other roommate, Spike, the sharpshooter with an anger problem, is the second best roommate ever) tackled my yard. I’ve been so busy lately with grad school (it’s over Monday… yea!) that I haven’t had a spare minute to do yardwork. It got so bad that I had to close my eyes each night as I pulled into my driveway because the sight of all those tall weeds made my eyes bleed.

Okay, now I’m just being mellodramatic, but it looked awful.

So roommate mowed and I edged, then we both swept. When we got done, I decided to pull a few of the big weeds. And all of a sudden, I couldn’t stop. Every time I thought I was finished, I would spot a new clump of those little suckers. I had fun social plans for the evening, but I couldn’t seem to tear myself away from pulling those weeds. I think it was because I could see immediate progress, and the night was pretty, and the ground was damp so they came out fairly easily. Whatever it was, my obsession grew and grew until I filled a full garbage bag. I wanted to keep going, but my friends were expecting me, so I finally gave in and quit.

But this morning, as I sit down to work on my research paper, I have this strange, burning desire to go pull more weeds! I think it may be a problem. Or maybe it’s my subconscious telling me it’s sick of working on this research paper.

Maybe I’ll go pull just one…

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