So, we're down to this...I now have to buy a new pair of gardening gloves each time I want to plant something pretty or dig up something ugly. I buy a pair, I use them a couple of times (because I'm not much of a gardener), and then I toss them randomly into the garage. They land on a box of pool chemicals or on top of the leaf-sucker-blower-thing, and there they sit. Eventually, when the chemical box gets opened or the leaf-suck-blower-thing gets moved over to make room for the old shoe rack, the gloves fall to the floor, nestled in some loose gravel that got dragged in by the car tires and a random leaf or two left over from last fall.
It's in this state of abandonment that the gardening gloves become home to a community of spiders--one for each finger and thumb. They creep down into the tips, spin their protective webs, and wait for me to pick up my crusty gloves and slide my unsuspecting hands into them. It would only take one bite from some poisonous leggy monster to make me lose a finger or even an entire hand.
I should say here that I have never actually found a spider in one of my old gloves, but I know they're there. I know this to be such a fact that I an powerless to put these gloves on. I have spent the last five minutes standing in the loose gravel and old crisp leaves, pinching the fingers of the old gloves to see if they hold critters, and still cannot put them on.
So, we've got weeds in the bed by the pool gate, and weeds in the bed by the patio. And here I sit inside typing out my fears--all because spiders are straight from hell. And all because I can't remember to put my gloves in a safe place.
It's in this state of abandonment that the gardening gloves become home to a community of spiders--one for each finger and thumb. They creep down into the tips, spin their protective webs, and wait for me to pick up my crusty gloves and slide my unsuspecting hands into them. It would only take one bite from some poisonous leggy monster to make me lose a finger or even an entire hand.
I should say here that I have never actually found a spider in one of my old gloves, but I know they're there. I know this to be such a fact that I an powerless to put these gloves on. I have spent the last five minutes standing in the loose gravel and old crisp leaves, pinching the fingers of the old gloves to see if they hold critters, and still cannot put them on.
So, we've got weeds in the bed by the pool gate, and weeds in the bed by the patio. And here I sit inside typing out my fears--all because spiders are straight from hell. And all because I can't remember to put my gloves in a safe place.
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Rich :)
Pianist friend