Since the ground has been wet from all of the rain I took on a new hobby of pulling up, and counting, all of the big weeds in the front yard.

After about a couple of days I had three Braum’s paper bags full of 310 enormous weeds.

Now it’s become almost an obsession.

I can’t even walk out to the car, or check the mail, without pulling at least five weeds. Big ones, little ones, and others in-between That’s never been my usual pastime, and the urge to pull them could go away at any time.

I must really be out of my gourd because it’s not like I have my Momma’s green thumb, or anything like that.

I should really be attacking what was a little tomato patch in the backyard a few years ago. That’s where there is now something like a small tree, and some other scary stuff growing, or just living, within the boundaries of the cinder blocks.

My sudden time outdoors also has me more than just a little ticked off at those black grackles, or whatever those big black birds are called. There had been some sweet little sparrows, and other small birds, eating food that I’d put out. Now those big birds won’t share.

I don’t have a feeder, and I don’t know if they make them that would keep those long-beaked larger birds away. I might try to Google that.

So, unless the gargles start dive-bombing me, I’ll try to keep with my weed-pulling routine.

Crumb! Now that I’ve made such a big deal out of this I’ll probably lose interest in it, and watch TV 24-7. However, I have noticed all that bending over to pull weeds has caused me to be a little bit more limber. I’m even thinking about putting up the new smoke alarm in the hallway that I bought a couple of months ago. But maybe I’ll wait until someone else is here. That way they could call for help if I fall, or at least identify the remains.