Ok. So. Here we go. Really. I'm ready.

Yesterday in my part of the world, it was Sunday. A really, really, REALLY hot Sunday. I mean, 80 degrees hot. So what do I do to celebrate the official end of winter?

Weed my mom's garden.

So I'm weeding, and weeding, and weeding, and avoiding things that crawl, and weeding, and weeding, and avoiding things that-worse- don't crawl, when my mom starts cutting off branches of these miniature trees we have, and telling me to pick them up. So I do.

And then she starts trimming bushes and tells me to pick up the excess. So I do.

And then she starts trimming these plants that'll soon flower, but right now are giant bushels of sticks, and tells me to somehow go behind them without scratching my leg up to pick up the excess. So I don't.

Until my sister pushes aside the blindes on the window that was right near my mom and I, and presses her face against it, giving me a near heart attack. 

Then, to show that I am still the superior sibling, I attempt to go around the bushes/ over them, in a way that does not scratch up my legs, but lands me softly in the mud. 

Luckily, my sister missed that part.