OCD Is A Woman With A Leaf Blower.
You can turn it off now, Winona.
“All the leaves are brown, and the sky is gray.” John Phillips (Mamas and the Papas)
We have a leaf problem, which is playing havoc with Winona’s condition. I say “condition,” but it’s really an ongoing seasonal psychosis. It happens every year during months with “r” in them. That’s when I have to keep leaves on a short leash — and Winona on an even shorter one.
Winona hates leaves with a passion she usually reserves for bugs. She claims they’ve (leaves not bugs, although both are pretty hateful) haunted her since childhood. Surprisingly, it doesn’t stop her rustling through them with the glee of six-year-old, although, according to her, it’s all part of her cunning plan to get rid of our leaves in one fell swoop.
This is a curse engineered by some leaf god.
I’m not sure this is going to happen. Leaves are leaves, and we’ve been blessed or cursed with thousands of them on all sides of us. Given the temperature and wind direction, most of those leaves will no doubt end up in a mass congregation on our lawn—not to mention our gutters.
This is a curse engineered by some leaf god.
