When I Close My Eyes at Night, I See Dandelions

I'm not kidding. In case you missed the title of this post, I see dandelions when I close my eyes at night. They are officially my new pet peeve. I figure if dandelions are the biggest topic I can complain about, things are alright.

Every day, I go outside with this incredibly sharp tool called a dandelion weeder. Once, I accidentally poked Rags with it and was like, "Oh, sorry buddy," and he continued running around the yard like the psycho he is. The other day, I dropped it on my bare foot (yes, I'm a hippie now - I walk around barefoot) and it poked a nice deep hole into my second toe. Now I feel a little worse about stabbing Rags.

Two days of not weeding leads to this.

Anyway, these things creep up when you turn your back. Literally. I weeded (wode?) the entire yard of them on Saturday morning. By lunchtime, there were more. By Sunday, more. I planted gerber daisies around the tree in our front yard and they require daily watering. I have a mild case of OCD, so I can't go outside and water my flowers without stopping every two feet to stab a dandelion through the neck (er, root).

As a kid, I used to love holding them between my thumb and forefinger, and making a coin-tossing action with my thumb while saying in a sing-song voice, "Mama had a baby and its head popped off!" I don't know where we learned this, but my friends and I used to do this while playing outfield in little league. Probably why I ended up being a cheerleader...

I also used to love blowing on the de-flowered (aka slutty) ones and making "dandelion snow." Basically I just used to love dandelions. Now, I absolutely loathe them. They ruin otherwise pretty lawns. I realize this is the curse of any weed, but they are so damn ugly! My dad hates violets, and I'm not a fan of the wild ones taking over our lawn (thanks, neighbors) either, but at least they look like flowers. Dandelions are the carnations of weeds.

Massive dandelions at work.

I've become such a dandelion-murdering-expert that I can spot the plant before it's even flowered. So much so that when I close my eyes, I actually see the plant. When I walked into work this morning, I saw a dandelion so big that my skin crawled and I felt nauseous. I should be thankful that I don't have to weed dandelions the size of my dog, but apparently neither do the people responsible for the campus landscaping, because this one has obviously been allowed to grow since 1928 when the college opened. Would it be really weird if I carried my dandelion weeder in my purse (or lunchbox?) and, when no one is looking, kill the mofo? I would dispose of the corpse appropriately. But it really sets me off. I'm doing better with my rage blackouts, but don't let me find a dandelion in your yard.

As I was leaving work, I found a
decapitated dandelion on the
sidewalk. Apparently, I'm not the
only one who hates them.