Meyles spends every spare moment outside in his precious garden. He wouldn’t so much as look at another woman. No, he wouldn’t. He’s too interested in worms and chook poo to so much as glance at another woman. If it doesn’t have roots and leaves and you can’t pick it, pull it, smell it, admire it, or eat it then he’s not interested!
That right,
folks, I am a fair dinkum, true-blue, garden variety widow!
And the
things I put up with! This is what I
have to suffer:
1.
Nothing
is ever as fresh. I can never go to a cafe or restaurant and order salad or
vegies, because they are all as limp as a wimpy handshake, and have brown bits
in them from being in the fridge too long.
Ewww!
2.
Supermarket
stuff is crap. If ever
I go to the supermarket to buy fresh stuff it’s all just crap by
comparison. So I am never satisfied with
quality from anywhere else.
3.
Nothing
else has any flavour. Half
the time the fruit is green, the vegies are old and everything comes out of
cold storage where it’s been gassed, frozen, or stored for ages.
4.
Sometimes
I never want to see spinach again. I love spinach. But just recently we had so much of the stuff
we gave away buckets of it and ate it at every meal. So when we went out to breakfast and my eggs came
with a big generous serve of… you guessed it… spinach on the side, I thought, “Oh
crap! Not more spinach!”
Life for a
Garden Variety Widow sure is tough.
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