A couple of weeks ago I decided to finally get my garden under control. I weeded for what seemed like hours in the heat of the sun, it was nice to feel its warmth on my arms while I worked. My fingers felt dry and bruised afterwards from the continuous pulling motion, but I was proud of myself for finally getting onto it. Then, after a few days of rain, I go outside to the sight of weeds growing from the cracks in the pavement, sprouting from every corner. Ugh. Why did I even bother?

Luckily the weeds that grew back weren’t the hideous I’m going to eat you for breakfast kind. They were almost cute. I will have to remove them at some point, but I’ll save that for another day, probably when I realise they’ve grown taller than me. Eek.


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