I sat in the window today and watched the Woman outside. She was out there all freaking day long, digging in the dirt. If it had been me, I’d have gotten yelled at (I did get yelled at for running behind the big thing they have the TV on…hey People, if you don’t want me back there, shove it against the wall!) but she just knelt there and dug. And planted a chiltload of flowers. Like she knew what she was doing.
Now, they look okay, but does she not realize those things will just get bigger, and she’ll have to remember to water them? They’re doomed.
Not to mention, the outside cats around here will probably poop between the plants.
I would, but there’s no way I’m going outside. There are Sticky People out there—even a new Sticky Little Person.
They’re taking over the world.