SPRING HAS SPRUNG AGAIN

It's been a few years in this garden, now, and it is finally starting to look like an actual garden. There are tulips everywhere at the moment. The flowering cherry is starting to fade, the apple trees are starting to bloom, and the lilacs, viburnum and wisteria are looking like they will be ready to go when those are finished.

I am...happy. There are seedlings in my greenhouse, and there is love in my brick house. And I am thankful.

MY BOYFRIEND IS COMPLETELY UNREASONABLE

If you know me, then you know that I love my boyfriend very much. However, even love cannot blind me to the fact that sometimes he can be completely unreasonable, and, when I make my case, I am sure you will agree that this is one of those times.

One afternoon a while back, I wandered through the garden picking up any stray pieces of dog poo that Jabba had left for us like some kind of diabolical Easter Egg hunt. I started out putting them in a carrier bag, but carrier bags have holes in them which turned out to be...unfortunate...so I ended up placing this carrier bag in a bucket into which I scooped the poo, which really worked quite well.

Now, at some point, something drew me from the garden. I cannot remember what; perhaps it was a telephone call, or a postman. It's really not important. However, the fact remains that I left the garden, and soon thereafter it started to rain, and so I did not return that day.

The obvious problem with this scenario was that I left a bucket of poo in the garden while it was raining. What resulted cannot be described without resorting to some particularly foul four-letter words.

For the last few weeks, Mike and I have been in a stand-off regarding who should deal with this vile concoction. I have tried very patiently to explain to him that rubbish disposal has been his long-accepted chore, and so clearly it is his responsibility. I have tried appealing to his sense of chivalry. I have even resorted to the last-ditch "If you really loved me...." argument, all in vain.

He responds to everything I say with the same lame so-called argument: "I tell you what, honey, the next time I make a giant bucket of sh** soup, I promise you I will empty it."

Completely. Unreasonable.