Hi I’m Georgia and I fucking hate gardening! You’d think by my love for outdoors and constant Pinterest folder featuring gardens it would be right up my street. Not at all. I seriously tried to like it but it’s bullshit. It’s manual labour without the benefit of any income and due to the always unpredictable Melbourne weather that can go through all the seasons within a day. Your hard work will only last a few days because all the mutant weeds that sprout up. I already deal with that shit with housework – cleaning the house from top to bottom only for it to be messed up within seconds.
I came to this conclusion about gardening this week when I realised that the hubs hadn’t kept up with his end of the chores. I do all the housework he does the gardening, I’m very particular on the housework and how I want it done – you know , right. So I thought I’m not going to nag him to clean up the weeds, water the plants and trim the hedges that had got out of control. I’d do it myself. At the time it seemed like a great idea and it could potentially become a hobby. Well that positive thinking turned into pure hatred.
I began with going through both the front and backyard picking up rubbish that had obviously blown in from the crazy wind storms, I felt like I was on community service cleaning up rubbish that wasn’t mine. I found a rusted spray paint can which I’m assuming my neighbours tossed over the fence because, well their dicks that tend to throw trash over a lot. Anyway after I cleaned up a heap of trash, so happy I didn’t find anything disgusting. I began with the weeds.
These weeds were in multiple sizes ranging from only a few centimetres to past my hip (I’m around 5’2). They were a collection of easy ones that you have to be on your hands and knees, that pull out of the ground in one go. Then there was the ones that it felt as if you were attempting to pull out a tree that had sharp prickles around it. Those bastards out populated the easy ones. So the entire time I was pulling these assholes out of the ground I would be grunting profanities at these weeds as if they were some asshole in a bar. These horrible weeds are what began my downfall and low motivation to continue with completing the gardens. As I reached my limit I headed to the garage to find some tool to help me cut corners to make sure the gardens look decent from a distance.
In my search I realised I have no idea how to get any of these electronic tools to work, so I settled with the hedge clippers and a big shovel. I should have looked in the garage first but I’m an idiot. So I was equipped with tools to hopefully help me finish the gardens. It turned into a plant bloodbath. I hacked at every weed and bush with the hedge clippers, all throughout the front and backyard there was cut off weeds, leaves and hedge branches laying around the ground. I wasn’t enjoying this at all, you’d think using a shovel as your own axe to try hack down large branched would be therapeutic, NOPE. The hubs finally arrived home and helped out with the garden. He was impressed with what I had done so far (obviously lying). But he finished up with the thought parts and we both raked and swept up the mess.
I left this experience with hatred to gardening, splintered and insect bites on my ankle , arm and boob. For some reason at the moment insects keep going for my right boob…..sexual deviant bugs. Well its safe to say I won’t be an elderly woman that loves my garden, I most likely will end up being the old woman that tells the safe at the supermarket her whole story when paying at the checkouts or the old lady that hangs out at the local pub. Either way old Georgia will be giving zero fucks. But needless to say in future Ill just nag the hubs if the gardens get feral again or hire someone to do the garden. Anyway I have a cup of tea that obviously won’t drink itself .