Yesterday, I was convinced that the Love-of-my-Life brought a Baby Triffid into our dwelling space.

I was most discomfited. Really. Tight chest. Twitches. Pre-occupied.
Sad, really.
I know it is pathetic.

It is even more pathetic because it wasn’t a Baby Triffid.
It was a baby Palm Tree.
In my defense, it didn’t look like a palm tree.
I looked like a cross between a baby palm tree and a spider plant.

The Love-of-my-Life laughed at me only a little bit.
And then she moved the thing into the laundry room.

I do love her so.

Don’t like baby palm trees, though.
Nope.

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