Someday I’d like to have a chicken coop; but today there are books, shelves to reorganize and grow pots in need of mulching:
moon and stars watermelons, two plants, with only one spiral to climb — Calypso bush beans, the Turk’s turban winter squash between them — wee be little pumpkin, jack o’ lantern pumpkin, winter luxury pumpkin — and every manner of tomato, towering beefsteaks who stand taller than me, like most everyone else — candy-striped corn, Anaheim peppers, wild strawberries — all in need of mulching before the August heat;
yet I keep playing Hearthstone, reading the Internet, watching Hulu’d Sailor Moon and American Dad, buying washi tape on Wish, drinking root beer, ordering photographs and photobooks, unpacking old moving bins, feeling the joy of whittling time without repercussion for too much whittling.
(Hurray for summer!)
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