Early this morning I threw on one of DH's hunting jerseys so that we could sit outside on the veranda and enjoy breakfast together before he went to work. After all, I could hardly sit out there in a two-piece swimsuit, could I? Although, given what happened shortly afterwards, a two-piece swimsuit may have been a wiser choice.
After DH had gone to work and I'd made the first layer of our Christmas cassata I decided to head out into the garden to do some weeding before I had my bath. It made more sense to get into the garden while it was still cool and to get dirty before getting all cleaned up. And it's not as if I didn't already have a million other things to do anyway. [Insert sarcasm icon.]
In Spring I had a mass of Forget-Me-Nots that were pretty but now they're dying and not so hot looking. So time to pull them out. Plus I thought it would give some other less vigorous plants some space to grow. They came out easily ... but so did their seed heads.
Forget-Me-Nots. There's a very good reason they've been given this name.
After crawling around on the garden on my hands and knees and breaking my last remaining long fingernails and jabbing myself with rose thorns thus increasing my chances of septicaemia and ending up with who-knows-what in my hair (there was something hanging over my right eye but whether a seed pod, the remains of some long-forgotten flower, or just a dead leaf, I never got to find out), I was done. But I was also covered with seeds (this is where a two-piece swimsuit would've come in handy - perhaps I could wear one at midnight and crawl around the garden so that I don't shock the neighbours?). I even had them in my hair.
Did I mention that this was before my bath? Don't judge me too harshly.
I had visions of hand-picking those seeds off one by one but it turned out to be an easier task than feared. A stiff scrubbing brush removed the majority of those little darlings so that I can now see myself confessing my crime to DH without too much fear and trembling on my part. But if I suddenly discover Forget-Me-Nots growing in the cracks in my bathroom floor, I'll know why.