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Screw you, begonias.
We have this little garden in front of the gate that, no matter what we do, just turns into a big clump of weeds within two days of us trying to plant something there. I've been telling mom for years that there's no point having it there and we should just fill it with rocks (I won't miss it, I firmly believe that gardens are pointless and annoying no matter how pretty they are), and she's finally listened to me. Mostly. Two days ago Mom declared that we would have to dig up all the weeds, cover the ground in plastic to keep them from growing again, and fill in the space with wood chips. We bought the wood chips yesterday, but Mom decided that she didn't want to BUY the plastic covering so we're going to use garbage bags instead (I'm not gonna be happy when the weeds grow through it and the wood chips get infested with bugs...oh it'll happen, just because Mom ignored me when I said "use rocks and a rubber ground covering" IT WILL HAPPEN). Today we went out to dig up the garden and were piling all the dirt and weeds we pulled up onto the sidewalk. We were halfway through and the pile was as tall as the puppies (who were having a good time eating its contents) when we decided to take a break. We went inside and after five minutes I looked out the window and realized it had suddenly started pouring rain. Mom and I had to run outside and shovel up the pile of dirt mud and weeds into the trash can in the rain. By the time we finished we were both soaked, and once we got in and changed clothes I looked out and -lo and behold- it had stopped raining. If there is a god, I think that was her way of telling me that my hate of gardens is entirely justified.
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