The owners of the house left a huge cactus sitting in the laundry room. It was 85 cm tall, 46 cm in diameter in its widest part and looked like a menacing phallus sitting proudly on the countertop. Considering how narrow this room is, it wasn’t surprising that I never took much liking to this thing. And, why would you want to have something so prickly in your surroundings?
Today in the morning squeezing pass the cactus for the umpteenth time, I got fed up. I dragged the whole thing downstairs in order to figure out what to do with it. On the stairs the damn thing fell on me, causing an outburst of words that I usually don’t use with kids around. That sealed the cactus’s fate; I lay it down on the floor and hacked it into pieces. (Freudian interpretation of this event will be very entertaining but I keep it to myself).
As a result the kids got a botanical lesson on the stucture of cacti and I can move freely in my laundry room.
And all this before 8 o’clock in the morning, oh mine.
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