Last weekend I inadvertently poisoned myself. I wanted to poison the weeds, so I went to Pini Hardware, mine and Toshi’s favorite store, he for treats, me for good customer service, and bought two of the giant size Ortho concentrate and one of those doohickeys you attach to the hose. Usually in the directions for the poison, it will say what number to put the doohickey on, but I couldn’t find the number so I guessed. I think I used #6.
Well, halfway through, I started to feel a weird sensation on my lips and tongue. I actually did know this was not right, but I continued to spray because I am just plain out of steam for that backyard and the never-ending weeds coming out of the gravel --which I can’t see anymore until the weed-whacker kicks it up and it hits me in the head, the leg, the face... wherever. I do wear sunglasses to protect my eyes.
Anyway, I decided to look at those instructions again and when I still couldn’t find the magic number I took the remaining bottle back to Pini and asked one of the supremely knowledgeable customer service people if I was missing something.
“Oh, that’s not for spraying with a hose, that’s for a sprinkler. It’s way too toxic to spray with a hose.” He said.
“Well I guess that is why I felt like I was killing myself.” I replied and then laughed.
I’m sure he thought I was some kind of nut because who jokes about this kind of thing? (Especially in Marin County) But really when you think about it, of all the crap I have put in my body, this is probably not the worst.
I’ve had enough booze, cigarettes, McDonalds and more than enough raw cookie dough to drop an elephant. I’ve consumed more sugar than some countries have total and I have ingested a variety of medications meant to kill something.
What is a little poison, really?
Now, because I’m a good mom, I did keep Toshi out of the back. And, when I told Nick the story he was laughing his butt off (he does have my sense of humor) because he pictured the whole thing having witnessed this behavior his whole life. His mom on a mission, doggedly spraying against the wind, lips slightly blue; nothing will stop her, especially not some stupid poison, not Ortho, not Black Flag, not anything.
But here is the sad thing. I still have weeds. Now they are dead weeds but they are there. The backyard looks even worse… if that is possible.
This weekend I took a break from the weeds, I decided to clean my office and the rest of the house instead. I breathed pledge, and Pinesol and just a bit of bleach. I breathed dust mites I’m sure, when I cleaned out the vacuum and dusted under the bed. I inhaled, God knows what, when I dusted the ceiling fans.
I cleaned up the garage and found a bit of mildew, which is always good on the lungs too. The stuff to clean that smells scarier than the Ortho.
So really it’s no wonder I’m not dead already right?
Yesterday, I received an invite to win a prepaid cremation. (With my name misspelled of course) Coincidence? I sure hope so.