Who Speaks for the Trees?

I had something in mind for this post but then I got an email with the subject line "Who Speaks for the Trees?" and at the same time my mother txt saying 'i had a little donut for dessert which came with three disposable syringes filled with sauces and you injected the donut before you ate it' and also right then I accidentally typed 'donut' as 'docunt' and now I've forgotten what I was going to talk about.

PLANT ME ALREADY, YOU FUCKING BITCH - my tree

update: while I was reading the email about the trees another txt came through from Mum which said 'i am now boiling the breakfast egg!'   thank you technology for your egg updates. 

Also I sent myself an email and Gmail marked it as important.

ANYWAY.  I was going to tell you a story, but not the one about how I put up shelves, and also not the one about how I checked my oil at 6am yesterday and was super proud of myself for being a Responsible Car Owner and then when I went to put the dipstick back in it was dark and I couldn't find the hole and then I realised that in fact it was I who was the dipstick.

The story is, however, vehicular in nature: yesterday evening I came out of the office and went to my carpark and was alarmed to see another car, scooting back and forth beside my car like they were trying to somehow line up and mate through their fuel caps.  

Beside New Car was a short yelling man. He was waving his arms at New Car's driver, who was looking increasingly panicked and coming closer and closer to manoevring right into my car.  I should probably mention that apart from my car and New Car the parking lot was completely empty.

"I'm about to go," I shouted helpfully over the already helpfully shouting man, as New Car edged painfully closer to my bumper, "if you move right forwards I'll back out."  

"Wait," he said, "We're practicing parallel parking!"

GOOD GOD MAN WOULD YOU PRACTICE IT SOMEWHERE ELSE.

Anyway.

That's all for now because I have to make dinner, and by make I mean microwave, and then after that I have to do some reporting, and by do some reporting I mean look blankly at a spreadsheet for five minutes with despair in my eyes then have a cider and fall asleep and hope that the reporting is not required for some sort of surprise meeting tomorrow.  Fuck you, surprise meetings, you are a docunt.

Night night everybody.