Tonight when I was walking back to my apartment from the mailbox Porch Pots Lady yelled my name and waved so I waved back, even though she was out watering those plants. My own porch, which needs to be swept, is littered with dried leaves and a branch that blew in during a storm the other night, but hers is still blooming with life, and it continues to fill me with envy.
“She has a wreath now, a live wreath!” I explained at lunch the other day. “I caught her watering it the other day when I came home!”
“You caught her?” Brian snickered. “Out on her own porch, in broad daylight, watering her plants?”
“How dare she!” Nancy added, rolling her eyes.
Nobody understands, myself included. It’s almost like my blind, reasonless hatred for Nellie Furtado. I step out on my porch and see those plants, and suddenly I’m wishing for a blight upon her crops.
This is the same reasoning that got so many of my Sims killed.