Tag Archives: worms

News you can’t use.

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You can’t, but someone must because there’s so much of it.

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Damn. I could have gone all day without knowing that.

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Worms.

You never know where they’ll turn up.

🤢

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Any of my male readers want to try and explain this? Because I simply don’t see the appeal.

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I’m a nature lover and believe in sharing our planet with all its creatures, but if this bastard is threatening my wine and beer?

Kill it.

Kill it on sight.

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See?

Beer is good.

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No mystery there.

He’s surrounded by politicians…

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Worms do not like bleach.

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Yesterday I started a chore I’ve been putting off for two years. After a month of (not so) subtly hinting the husband could help me, I gave up and did it myself. Armed with a spray bottle of bleach, multiple scrubby sponges and a pressure hose attachment I attacked the shady sides of our vinyl sided garage.

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Naturally I forgot to take a before photo…

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But this is what I was battling, and trust me it’s a workout. Green, moldy algae discoloration that didn’t want to let go.

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It’s the result of kicked up ground water, stuck grass clippings from my husband’s giant lawn tractor and a lack of direct sunlight drying the rain.

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The woodchucks tunnel under this door and have ruined the surrounding lawn… but patches of loose dirt that became muddy with bleach soaked water yielded an interesting result.

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Worms.

Here a worm, there a worm. Worms everywhere … wriggling out of the ground in protest. Clearly they did not enjoy a bleach bath.

Sorry worms. It had to be done.

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*Following photo for Boo who wanted to see my pressure washing attachment. *

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I love my town.

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I live in the country, in a small Maine town. This is never more apparent than when you read their local Facebook page.

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I don’t golf, never have. But if I could hire a personal goat caddy? I might have to start.

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And speaking of goats….

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Rent a goat. Now there’s a small business worth supporting.

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And if you think we’re all about goats, never fear.

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We have worms right next to the milk and butter in our grocery store’s dairy case.

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And finally… are we really doing this now?

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Puppy play dates. What happened to the good old days when neighborhood dogs just met on the corner and sniffed each other butts?

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