Brown Thumb Disease

brown-thumb
So here it is ...September again..

Several of my mums have already paid the ultimate price for my brown thumb disease. Surprisingly, my fall floral array finally began to slowly overtake that of my garden nemesis (Mr. Green Jeans). I was about to get my gloat on when I discovered that  he had an unfortunate accident resulting in a rotator cuff injury which is obviously more detrimental to gardening duties than the fact that I have only one opposable thumb. So, I guess the garden war will have to wait until spring.

My little Greendale “original” has a small cubbyhole type storage area in one of the bedrooms. In an effort to begin my fall cleaning ritual, I crawled into said cubbyhole and began to empty out  a lifetime collection of treasures ... old books, Christmas decorations etc. It's hard to appreciate how much one can cram into a small area until you realize that you have accrued a huge pile of bags and boxes.

So many bags and boxes in fact that, by pushing them out of the storage area willy-nilly you have made an impenetrable obstacle for yourself and — try as you might — you now are hopelessly stuck in the closet.

So there I was, crouched down much like a garden gnome, totally unable to uncross my legs and too puny to push the stacks of boxes out of my way. My cell phone was tantalizingly on the other side of the pile, and yelling for help would be futile what with the windows closed and a foot of concrete block between me and the civilized world.

After a good while when one is totally alone, with no sustenance (and no water) one’s imagination takes over. I pictured my family finding my parched and skeletal remains draped in Christmas tinsel or possibly partially consumed by Gump, who can't go for more than a few hours without eating.

Finally, when claustrophobia set in, I found a burst of strength, got to my hands and knees — and much like a bull in a china shop — pushed one of the boxes aside.        It was just enough to allow me to crawl up over the pile. When I told my children about the incident I got surprisingly little sympathy, just some  eye rolling and mutterings about senility and assisted living.

Something has been definitely wrong with the e-mail part of my computer. It has begun to pick and choose who it will send my messages to. When I tried to send my last blog to my son (who edits it brutally by the way) it went instead to Sendik's. I can't imagine what went through the mind of the person who received the mailing.

Now, I'm a bit uncomfortable about shopping there and am mulling over wearing some sort of fedora to hide my identity. In the meantime, until enough time has elapsed I will use what is left in my cupboards for sustenance. Which means tonight's meal will be a very ripe banana garnished with a cup of canned peas, OR use my $5 coupon at Miss Beverly's.

I don't like to be repetitive, but have you watched the latest batch of E Harmony ads? When the old codger isn't discussing the dating scene with his prepubescent “granddaughter" he is lurking around a speed dating site, popping up across from some unsuspecting young woman. I rather expect Stabler and Benson from Law and Order SVU to drag him away in handcuffs. I guess maybe I'm overreacting a bit, but really...

So, I found a  credit card I thought I had lost. It was in amongst Gump's secret stash of dollar bills, single earrings, spools of thread and rubber bands. I have tolerated this eccentricity, but will draw the line if he starts collecting underwear..

Well ... the leaves are turning, little Damian is off to kindergarten (whoever said teacher's aren't paid enough were right) and I have barely started my Christmas shopping so must run for today.

Until next time.