I'm sitting at a public park today, reading my new book, when I notice the words are being attacked by brownish, miniscule, particles of debris. I look up to see this landscaping crew infiltrating my camp. Before I can take any protective action, I'm covered in a layer of the finest mulch known to man. It's in my hair, my eyes, stuck to my lip gloss, and building a colony down the front of my shirt. As I'm trying to assess the situation and map out my escape route I overhear one of the workers telling this stupid story about how he got pulled over for drunk driving and how he "gave the cop a hard time."
Besides being annoyed by this subtle takeover, I'm also perplexed by a couple of things:
1st: Does it make any sense to spread dust-mulch on an incredibly windy day? Are some people so incapable of adapting that they can't think "Hmm, I know we planned on spreading mulch today, but maybe a calmer day would be better..." or "Perhaps this mulch is ridiculous and we should purchase something that actually stays where it is placed..." ?
2nd: If you are conscious enough to realize your mulch is of the dispense & disperse variety, yet, are still impossibly bound by the constraints of The Plan and, thus, unable to make any intelligent changes, then is it too much to, I don't know, warn innocent bystanders that you're going to be executing pointless landscaping and advise them that they may wish to move if they're not interested in planting a garden in their shirt!?
Ok, so mostly I'm just peeved that my 35 cent rootbeer, which I walked an extra 4 blocks to purchase, was ruined after only a few sips, but seriously,
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