Why it takes me a minimum of 17 hours to do anything.

As a freelance worker with an irregular income, I've figured out a lot of ways to stretch my money.  I clip coupons, do my own home repairs, cut my fella's hair myself,  and even dried and reused a paper towel once.

As frugal as I am, I'd still rather spend money on flowers than cut them from my garden.  Every time I take a pair of scissors to my home grown flowers it's as if I'm plunging a knife into my own flesh and blood.   It's horrifying.   You're probably thinking, Well, jeez, Karen ... where do you think flowers come from?  You think they just magically appear in the grocery store, all packaged up in plastic ready for you to take home?  NO. They don't ...  Someone has to feed them and raise them and make sure they're healthy, and then when they're just the right size and age, someone has to butcher them.   Uch ... gives me the willies just thinking about it.  The truth is, I don't want to know where they come from.  I just want them to appear all pretty in front of me from somewhere other than my garden.  But, I am cheap, so occasionally when I have an abundance of flowers, I do go out and cut them myself.

Since this is probably the last week I'll actually have tulips in my garden, I decided to head out into the wilderness that is my front yard to *gasp* cut some tulips.  That should take, what?  5 minutes?   It went a little something like this ...

Grab some scissors for cutting the flowers  from the boxy thing I keep all my scissors in.

Head out the front door and immediately notice the dirty porch and nip back inside to get broom.

Sweep porch.

Put broom away and head back out to front yard to cut tulips.

Notice my lawn is all brown at the tips.  Hmm.  What the hell.

Remember my push mower wasn't making that nice clicking sound it's supposed to the last time I cut the lawn.  This means my lawn is all brown because the push mower was ripping the grass as opposed to cutting it.  Should probably adjust the cutting blade.

Back in the house to get the tools to adjust the lawnmower.  And a coffee.  Might as well get a coffee.  I mean, it'd be stupid not to.

Fix lawnmower.  (watch for full post on how to do this soon) O.K.  Now what was I doing ... Oooo look at the butterfly!

Follow the butterfly around the corner and notice, WOW,  my rhubarb is HUGE!

Pull a few stalks (pulling firmly from the base) for my neighbour Rachael.    Rachael LOVES stewed rhubarb for breakfast.  Only people of a certain age love stewed rhubarb.  Rachael is approximately this age.    I remember Rachael's love of stewed rhubarb  because I am a good and neighbourly neighbour.  Right, Rachael?  Now how 'bout that secret candy recipe you've been holding out on for the past 12 years.  You know one day you'll go senile and I'll trick it out of you so you may as well just give it up now.

Deliver the rhubarb to Rachael.  Rachael's shy.  One of Rachael's favourte movies  is Pulp Fiction.  But you probably guessed that just by lookin' at her.

Return home and notice my front gate needs the latch fixed.  Don't have time to do a real fix, so I "pretend fix it" by removing the loose screw, filling the too large hole with a broken off stick and rescrewing the screw into it's newly snug home.   (watch for full post on this method soon)  This will suffice until I have time to properly fix it.  I don't have time now because ...

... I have to run inside while I remember and get some coffee grounds.  Coffee grounds in the dirt around your hydrangea plants help  to lower the pH which in turns helps them stay blue.  Flowers.  Floooowweeerrss ... there was something I was supposed to remember about flowers.  Right!  Tulips ...

Just about to start cutting when ... Betty shows up!  Sit on porch and discuss important matters of the day then force feed her  Szechwan Carrot Soup.

Grudgingly cut my flowers and get ready to plunk them into my favourite tulip vase; which also happens to be my third favourite gravy boat. Which is actually a vintage water pitcher. I think.

This, by the way, is pretty much how all of my days go.  Which leads me to believe, it's probably pretty much how all of your days go too.  You set out to do one thing and eventually get there by way of a fewwww other things.  Now if you'll excuse me, I have to actually arrange these suckers.  Quickly.  Before I notice the carpets that need to be vacuumed and that cat barf in the corner that needs cleaning up.