Ewwww...
So I’m a city girl, right? I have never never lived in the country and the closest I’ve been to experiencing the country life is back in primary school when we used to go on horse-riding camp and had to herd sheep around the place by yelling and waving our hands around the place (probably not the most effective way of doing it, but we didn’t know any better). My food comes clean, packaged, checked for flaws… that sort of thing. So when I eat things, I know I can pretty much pop it straight in my mouth. Unfortunately my daddy isn’t quite like me. He likes growing things. I like watching them grow. I do eat plums and apples from our trees, but only after checking v.e.r.y. carefully for worms and rot and unpalatable things like that.
But lettuce? *shudders* I eat lettuce like other people eat bread, or pasta, or rice. An iceberg lettuce costs around $1. And I demolish one of them a week. Which comes up to $52 a year. More, if everyone has salad. So Dad came up with an ingenious idea: we’ll grow our own! So the vegetable patch is now covered with two types. And me? I think I’m fine with that. I’ll just go out when I need a lettuce and I’ll never run out of lettuce… right?
WRONG. Because when I went to pick a lettuce, I found at least a dozen little creepy crawly bugs with pincers and black things around the same size lurking at the base of my lettuce. The shriek that came out of my mouth and me jerking around the laundry trying to get those things off of my food was probably hilarious, but I didn’t think so at the time. Creepy things. Don’t they know the meaning of ‘Personal Space, Dude’? *narrows eyes*
The conclusion that I’ve reached after this? I’m a wuss. *rolls eyes* Man up, dL, honestly. *scoffs*