Menen Feels Guilty
I have just returned from my flower and herb garden, where I planted a very heavy lava rock for a stepping-stone.
Earlier this morning, under cloak of darkness, I scampered to a busy intersection in which I had previously spotted a beautiful moss covered boulder. During a break in traffic, and moving with the grace and calculative nature that only the finest of obsessive gardeners possess, I quickly rolled it into my open backpack.
With a grunt and a snort, I hoisted it on my back and embarked on the journey to the garden. Staggering and sweating, I arrived at the vine-covered gate just as the sun was casting its first rays on my ferns.
As the clouds of dust arose and settled around me, I wondered if I just stole a rock. Maybe I should return it. Like Sisyphus, am I doomed to take this bit of hardened molten back a forth across town?
Earlier this morning, under cloak of darkness, I scampered to a busy intersection in which I had previously spotted a beautiful moss covered boulder. During a break in traffic, and moving with the grace and calculative nature that only the finest of obsessive gardeners possess, I quickly rolled it into my open backpack.
With a grunt and a snort, I hoisted it on my back and embarked on the journey to the garden. Staggering and sweating, I arrived at the vine-covered gate just as the sun was casting its first rays on my ferns.
As the clouds of dust arose and settled around me, I wondered if I just stole a rock. Maybe I should return it. Like Sisyphus, am I doomed to take this bit of hardened molten back a forth across town?
posted by Menen at 5:17 PM
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