Last night my neighbours, The Chore Family, came back from a 10 day holiday. Yes, I watered their plants on the front porch but I also watched their lawn go from perfectly evened shards of straight up grass (with a ratio of 5 to 1 clover) to something chaotic as though their lawn developed tumours with cowlicks on them. “Sorry, sorry,” I said, ” I don’t know what happened!”
“No worries, Peterson,” they replied, “That’s crabgrass. Thanks for watering our plants, here’s a bottle of Tequila!” And by the next morning, when I got up to walk Betty, the “crap grass” was already pulled up and a new day had begun. I started pulling up some of it in my garden but I had no gloves and the roots are so deep. Maybe with the right tools? Still, Chore Family seems to use their hands. Or maybe weeding and whatnot is just not the nitpicking habit I have. So far this summer, I have irrigated my ears twice, all that pool swimming causes blockage. Also I booked an appointment to donate blood. I like to do this regularly because it’s refreshing, I think it gets the system in gear, and therefore the mojo rumbling. Although the last couple of times I was refused because hemoglobin levels were low which says a lot about my dating life. Yes, it’s *iron* I am lacking. Anyway, the Manulife Centre is where I went, thay have a permanent clinic and will validate your parking for two hours. And! Starbucks donates their apres-bleeding treats which, along with the usual Peakfreens biscuits, is worth the trip if you are a foode whore. You know, it took less than half an hour, in and out, so there’s no excuse not to give, go here and find out how.