The Dirt Has Animals Without Legs.

Because I have nothing better to do with my time, like write yet another essay...

Because my dogs are trying to turn my hard wood floors into dog-fur-carpet...

Because I have laundry to do...

I decided to go outside and play in the dirt this afternoon.

Let me preface this with the fact that I am not a gardening type person. Not that this activity even remotely counts as gardening. But, oh my word, my weeds are trying to turn the driveway into the lawn. The flora is taking over. Can you even see the curb in there? It's barely recognizable as concrete.

And please excuse the busted asphalt driveway. Down south we all have pretty white driveways. I don't know why Northerners insist on black top. It cracks and collects dirt. Then it morphs into the lawn. Its lovely, really.

So I decided to get down on my hands and knees and launch my own counter attack on the renegade grass. 

I was doing well too. Until I ran into my arch nemesis. 

I hate, repeat: hate, animals without legs. You heard me. I do not like them. Where are their legs? Seriously.

I'm not just talking slugs and worms. Snakes are at the top of the list. Then comes fish, dolphins, seals, lizards (their legs are too small), frogs (no legs when they started), and anything else sans legs that I can't think of right now. Basically, going fishing with worms is my worst nightmare.

I know it's an irrational fear. But I have a long list of irrational fears, ie spontaneous house fires, boat trailers spontaneously flipping, diving boards spontaneously breaking in half, ect... Do you see a theme here?

Anyway, I was attacked by a slug in college. One night when Morgan and I were living together we were sitting on our porch swing. It had rained earlier that day so the plants on our porch were still wet with rain drops. We were sitting outside in our PJ pants taking a break from studying. When we went back inside I kept feeling something slightly damp on the back of my calf. I figured the back of my leg had brushed against one of the rainy plants. After kicking the back of my calf with my other foot about 800 times, I finally stopped what I was doing and pulled up my pant leg. And there, behind my knee, was a gignormous slug. It had crawled all the way up my calf leaving a trail of slime. I immediately ran across the house to the shower, pulled all of my clothes off, screamed at the top of my lungs and had a complete hissy fit. I've always been mature like that.





Back to the renegade lawn. Did I mention there were worms too? It was almost more than I could bare. The worm and I had a staring contest until he gave in and retreated back to the dirt. Score one for me!





So, do you think my torment was worth it? Now its a dirt lined driveway!

Let's review.





Before.





After.

I'm not sure it was worth it. But I'll let you be the judge.

I, for one, definitely could have survived the rest of my years without knowing I share a yard with the leg-less creatures that are not to be named.