TSCLT 4.0: Bitchy Malevolent Baby Ducks

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Happy Monday!!!


We did get storms last night. They woke me up . . . for a minute and a half or so. The cat didn't seem to care. Something about a roof . . . .


P/T is on the agenda this morning.


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Mornin' Wat. Warm and dry here, as usual. Time to start the tomato's and run a few errands later.
 
We are undergoing a dry spell and a warmup. It's projected to last all week. We'll see how that goes.
 
P/T first, and yard work second.


I'll have to look for my truck. I'll need to haul mulch.


I wonder how long it'll take Old Fussy (the lawnmower) for its first start-up this year - and how much cussing.


It'll usually fire up and run before I have to call it Retched Motherfucker.


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Everything is soggy here, rain of every sort in the last 36 hours and a few flooded roads. Nothing major but we are working from the house today.
 
I think I'll use a new strategy this year. If it gets taller than three, maybe four inches, I hit it with Roundup™. Whatever doesn't get sprayed, I call grass.

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As long as the deluge stays on that side of the Saint Lawrence . . . . ;)


I'm planning to garden with a lot more round-up this year.


I have to sort out my concrete steps at the front of the house. They're built shitty, with risers all over the place. I know a guy who can do better. The bottom one is falling apart. At some point, the postal person will refuse to deliver my mail. So might Amazon.


Now, we just can't be havin' that shit!!!!


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For the old fucks, with no sense of balance left.


Didn't Lance claim to own a Harley? That must be his'n, then.


Lit's most beloved poster . . . .


Right behind Penis Gazer . . . .


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Yeah . . . that's just wrong . . . .


But there was this married woman once, but that's a story for another pR0n board.


So, supposing I start yardwork today, will it take longer to gather all the Implements of Destruction or actually to do the planned bit of work?


I wager that I have no fucking idea where my dirty gloves are.


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Weed killer is my weapon of choice this time of year. The friggin wild mustard is going crazy. The goatheads show up later in the season the Rio Grande Plague Weed that comes along with the irrigation. That settles in the grass and I have to use a special formula for that one.
 
I can go out to the farm supply store and get a super-strong form of form of weed killer that comes in the five-gallon drum. It's the only thing I've found to be effective on the industrial-strength poison ivy that grows here.
 
I think that I stiffened up this morning - wet weather.


I know, who knew?


Well, they kicked my ass at P/T, and then I had to go for a walk downtown to pick up some errands stuff.


The garden may have to wait . . . .


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If the garden waits, I can post again today.


After my nap.


The cat says that it's time, but not like Bruce Buffer.


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I think not.


He's spent most of the day hanging around downstairs.


I've spent most of the day hungry.


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