Every week or two I trek down to the local library to weed and deadhead the garden areas and pick up any trash that's found its way on the lawn. Sometimes I go solo. Other times, some teens help out. Monday morning two boys were there, making the work zip by.
When we got the front done, they headed to the back of the building, while I checked for weeds around the trees. And just as I got into a comfy squat to yank out the bad stuff--swish!! On came the automatic sprinkler system, which was aimed straight at my broad backside. By the time I got to dry ground, I was soaked.
But that wasn’t nearly as bad as what was to happen next. What’s that on the ground? Some wadded up black plastic? I bent over, swooped up the trash, and brought it closer to my face for a better look. Oh, yuck! It’s a fat, dead bird! I quickly dropped it into my plastic bag, not missing a beat, and kept working.
Eventually, the boys and I met back up. I explained away my wet T-shirt and shorts, ha-ha, and then told them about the "trash" I found. They were appalled.
"You picked up a dead bird? I would NEVER pick up a dead bird!" one of them said.
"Neither would I," the other chimed in.
"Well, I didn’t think that’s what I was picking up," I said defensively. "I wasn’t paying any attention."
If anyone ever writes the story of my life, it will be titled, OOPS!
4 comments:
Ewwwwww. Yeah bad days.. ha ha.. We just smile and go on.
what's wrong with those boys? afraid to touch a dead bird? what wusses!!!
Dr. M: I suspect they would prefer the word, "refined." :)
Maddie has a gift for picking up dead things. When she was three, at the park, she said, "Dad, look, I have a fish!" Yeah, our daughter brought aus a dead fish! Then not even a month ago, she thought she found a beautiful duck feather only to pick it up and it was still attached to the ducks bones. Luckily that one happened with the baby sitter. :)
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