Oh Crap! I Might Have Killed My Lemon Tree.
My poor baby. My beautiful lemon tree.
I didn't mean it, I just went a bit sick with my new pruning hand saw. Totally the wrong time of year to prune a lemon tree, I am aware, but it was getting desperate. Or I was.
It was too big for it's boots. Too high, too low, too banging into walls and too shading the rest of the garden. I couldn't wait til March.
So I went the hack.
And now my lemon tree looks like Lyle Lovett.
If I haven't killed it then I have definitely given it a very wrong and bad hair cut. I feel like the mother of a barely teenage son. You can hear me insisting "it's for your own good," in a well meaning but intensely irritating voice. And now he has to stand in the school yard, all awkward and ashamed to be alive, whilst girls snicker at him and boys throw rocks at him...just wanting to die...running into his room when he comes home, locking the door, throwing himself on his bed in tears and yelling "I HATE YOU MUM! I hate you! I hay-ay-ate y-y-you..." And me, knowing that I fucked the haircut up. That I subjected my only son to this torment through my haste and sheer lack of care during the hair cutting process.
Oh! What have I done!!!!?????? My little lemmy wemmy. My squeezy, yummy, citrus baby. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm so so-o-o-rry.
I seem to be screwing everything up at the moment, or everything around me is going wrong or breaking.
I burnt the beetroot last night, to a blackened crisp. Thought there was enough water in the pot to last the few minutes it would take me to dash to the shops but came home to that "uh-oh" smell. Didn't know what to do so I took to the streets in sheer desperation with a placard made of cardboard and crayon, bearing the words "SAVE THE BEETROOT!". No-one cared. Not even my Middle Eastern neighbours. I thought they'd understand. What else am I supposed to put my pomegranate molasses on? They sold it to me!
My car's broken, my cat's broken (he's in hospital), my dog's broken (he's going to hospital on Wednesday), my shovel went missing (who steals a shovel? Yesterday's was borrowed)...at least my spirit's not broken.
Why does everything go wrong when you're unemployed? Fuck life's expensive!
It's fuckin' good though and I love it.
I didn't mean it, I just went a bit sick with my new pruning hand saw. Totally the wrong time of year to prune a lemon tree, I am aware, but it was getting desperate. Or I was.
It was too big for it's boots. Too high, too low, too banging into walls and too shading the rest of the garden. I couldn't wait til March.
So I went the hack.
And now my lemon tree looks like Lyle Lovett.
If I haven't killed it then I have definitely given it a very wrong and bad hair cut. I feel like the mother of a barely teenage son. You can hear me insisting "it's for your own good," in a well meaning but intensely irritating voice. And now he has to stand in the school yard, all awkward and ashamed to be alive, whilst girls snicker at him and boys throw rocks at him...just wanting to die...running into his room when he comes home, locking the door, throwing himself on his bed in tears and yelling "I HATE YOU MUM! I hate you! I hay-ay-ate y-y-you..." And me, knowing that I fucked the haircut up. That I subjected my only son to this torment through my haste and sheer lack of care during the hair cutting process.
Oh! What have I done!!!!?????? My little lemmy wemmy. My squeezy, yummy, citrus baby. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm so so-o-o-rry.
I seem to be screwing everything up at the moment, or everything around me is going wrong or breaking.
I burnt the beetroot last night, to a blackened crisp. Thought there was enough water in the pot to last the few minutes it would take me to dash to the shops but came home to that "uh-oh" smell. Didn't know what to do so I took to the streets in sheer desperation with a placard made of cardboard and crayon, bearing the words "SAVE THE BEETROOT!". No-one cared. Not even my Middle Eastern neighbours. I thought they'd understand. What else am I supposed to put my pomegranate molasses on? They sold it to me!
My car's broken, my cat's broken (he's in hospital), my dog's broken (he's going to hospital on Wednesday), my shovel went missing (who steals a shovel? Yesterday's was borrowed)...at least my spirit's not broken.
Why does everything go wrong when you're unemployed? Fuck life's expensive!
It's fuckin' good though and I love it.
posted by Darcy at 10:17 PM
4 Comments:
so tired. Mullett has arrived.
I hate this fucking word verification thing.
oh darling! i nearly cried when i got to the burnt beetroot!
but maybe if you use some of your flailing lemons to moisten it up, it could be a new specialty. a real hit with the neighbours if you add some garlic and oil.
cybele: You must have cried even more when you found out about my hospitalised animals. (I picked the burnt crud off and ate it anyway).
roguey: life's tough with a mullet, I know.
darcy, the worst thing you did to that poor lemon tree, beyond over pruning, was calling it lyle lovett. it will never recover.
hope your cat and dog are both good soon.
Post a Comment
<< Home