After I spent about 20 minutes weeding in my front flower beds, I decided to spend some quality time in my hammock.
One of my home management duties is an annual stress test to make sure the hammock strings haven’t rotted. Adequate and substantative testing takes at least an hour and needs to be administered daily over a 3 week period. It’s a tough and potentially hazardous job– if you’ve ever wrestled a hammock, you know what I’m talking about.
A quick walking tour of my domain yielding many interesting facts:
First, if I had to grow my own food, I’d starve to death. Unless I could survive on the consecrated host, or could graft some bromeliad DNA that allows me to live hydroponically.
I think I was subconsciously waiting until 12/21/12 was over to lose weight, just in case it was TEOTWAWKI and I needed to live off my fat stores until I got my chicken farm operational.
Second, unedible and non-tasty plants are like cockroaches. Unkillable:
I have also had an ephiphany that tops my mom’s suggestion we make gasoline from pine straw. Or biodiesel from kudzu.
Are you ready?
Goats that only eat weeds. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life trying to get the weeds out of my iris. I need some trained goats that will only eat the swamp grass and will leave the flowering plants.
I want this:
To look more like this:
Circus Goats. I need Circus Goats. I’m just not sure if my cat is up to training them.