I’ve become addicted to pulling weeds.
It all started a few weeks back, when my attempt to mow the lawn was thwarted by an army of skinny, spiky stalks that refused to move, instead ducking down under the blades, springing back up on the other side, victorious middle fingers in the grass.
This means war.
Out came an old Phillips screwdriver. On went my gardening gloves. Outfitted for battle, I squatted down and pulled my very first weed.
Which was more satisfying than I could have ever dreamed.
So satisfying that I spent the next 3 hours hunched over the lawn with my weapon, digging in and yanking out weeds and their roots, filling a giant green Forceflex bag with the carnage.
This has gone on for two weeks, this identifying and excavating of weeds. I can’t stop. I get up early to make time to pull weeds, timing my stints with a Giant’s game or KALX DJ I like, because weed-pulling most definitely needs a soundtrack. Or maybe not, as there have been days I weed in silence, which has become more therapeutic than my actual therapy sessions.
I’ve been dreaming about weeds and the act of weeding. I scan every patch of grass I pass for weeds like I’m searching for spare change. I would rather weed then smoke weed.
There’s another reason why I have found this all so addictive and satisfying: pulling a weed is like popping a zit. It just is. I’m not just ridding my lawn of weeds; I’m giving it a facial.
I’m going to be torn when I pull out that last weed, secretly hoping new ones will grow for me to tend to. Maybe I will grow weeds. All I know is that they make me happy.
- Eton Self-Powered Outdoor Radio, Amazon. 2. Xcelite Phillips Screwdriver, Amazon. 3.
- Water Logged Watering Can, Modcloth. 4. Fermob Luxembourg Footrest (used as stool) in Verbena, Fermob. 5. Bogs Urban Farmer Slides, Bogs. 6. Orla Kiely Gardening Gloves, Amara.