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/...slap.
I have a spider plant. A SPIDER PLANT.
There I was shopping merrily away in a lovely charity shop full of pretty cheap things and at the till the nice lady offered me a free spider plant because they were giving them away. I felt sorry for it and took it under my wing.
Now it sits smirking at me among the basil and poppy seedlings, poking sinister stripey leaves out and *touching their pots* like a creepy old uncle, exuding an air of relentless spiderplanty purpose. It's like discovering you've put on a pair of grubby track suit bottoms instead the trousers of your nice suit to go a job interview.
What possessed me? My dear little basil seedling, freshly hatched, is looking up at me, unreproachful, seeking only an explanation that it can understand.
"Daddy? Is Uncle Spider going to stay with us for EVER and ever?"
Also, I think imagining Talks to Strangers as an incorporeal entity in the Readings of Other Posters Names Thread may have been a mistake. |
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