Fuck you, mysterious animal!
It’s bad enough when some mysterious animal (chipmunk? squirrel? possum? woodchuck? raccoon? skunk? …all have been sighted in my yard) eats your strawberries when they’re nice and ripe and you’re juuuust about to pick them an share with your children the I Grew These Bitches strawberry experience, but when some mysterious animal takes ONE shitty little bite out of the ones that aren’t even anywhere near ripe and then discards them! FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU, animal.
And because no-one loves a tortured metaphor more than me, that’s kind of my summer so far. I love summer so much, and I’ve reminding myself that this is the time of year for me to just enjoy the fuck out of everything and not get bogged down. But a mysterious animal (tiredness, dispositional impatience, tendency to feel overwhelmed when all is fine–all have been sighted in my psyche) keeps taking a big bite out of my….uh….not-yet-ripened psychological strawberries. So I’ll be planning to stroll home and have a cocktail and enjoy some time with my precious children and then CHOMP before I know it I’m getting bitten by mosquitoes while desperately trying to do some yard task that’s been stressing me out and meanwhile my children are off destroying something or making each other cry and then I just want to be asleep.
What’s the metaphorical equivalent of bird netting?