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Wednesday, April 10, 2013

Garden War!

I woke with a constellation of scabby, pustules oozing across my face.  A ghastly scroll through google image showed that rashes exist on a continuum, from a scattered few bumps to a full body take-over of icky raw hideousness. 

Am I using a new soap? No.
Shampoo? Laundry detergent? Lotion? No. No. No.
Did I eat something weird? No. 
Not that I can remember what I ate or where I went yesterday... 

Oh wait. Yesterday I worked in 
(cue ominous music)


Was there some misunderstanding?

Did my plants read my puttering ministrations as a slashing sap-bath of horror? 

Could they, in their photosynthesizing-paranoia, interpret my weeding and re-potting as going hostile with the trowel? 

Is this out-break on my face their REVENGE seeping pure hatred from my stinging pores! 

If so --- Hear this, you spiny spiteful cacti & flesh-eating succulents: 
While you plot my itchy demise and plan for the glorious composting of my flesh, know that even poisoned and disfigured 
this is a desert and I control the HOSE!