“Hey! Numbskull, yes you, a little more water if you please,” said a voice from behind me.
“Shut up Lilly, you’ve got plenty for today. Now watch your tone or I’ll take away your fertilizer privileges,” I barked back. It had been about a week since I first started hearing the plants speak to me and I’m already sick of it. It’s all “I need water, feed me, I’m dying,” well I need things too you know; like to finish the rest of the “How I Met Your Mother” series before it gets spoiled by the treacherous lands of Tumblr, which I recently made an account on. I’ve considered that I’ve gone crazy, lost my marbles as you would, and at the ripe old age of 82 that’s very likely; except for the fact that I am reigning county champion in the crossword puzzle championships for three years running. I only took up gardening because I literally had nothing better to do, other than crossword puzzles, I live in an old folks community. AN OLD FOLKS COMMUNITY. They’re all old and boring. I mean, I’m not exactly a young sprite, but I at least have the gusto to go skydiving every other Tuesday.