I am pretty sure that my husband thinks I am having an affair. There
are my unexplained absences, unaccounted for money spent and the evening
trips to "the store" for milk and bread that take a little too long and
never result in any milk or bread. Where were you? What were you doing?
he asks. My responses are always vague.
I am having an affair of sorts.
It is just a lame and embarrassing affair with my local garden center.
But I just can't help myself. I enjoy the little thrill I get by
sneaking out to the garden store this way. Nobody knowing where I am,
the anonymity of it. Some people take baths or watch T.V. to de-stress
but visiting my garden center, to me, is pure relaxation. When I am
pursuing through the various fruit trees I long to buy, spotting the
newest hydrangea hybrid, striking up a casual conversation with a fellow
garden enthusiast over what the perfect shade plant is, I feel my
troubles melting away. Oh and the smells roses, lilacs, basil...heaven. I
swear there is more oxygen there as well and I immediately feel more
energetic.
I am at the garden center so
much that I sometimes think the staff may think I am a bit of a lurker
or maybe an escapee from some kind of institution but I don't care. My
pure pleasure over rides any sort of odd looks from the staff. Maybe one
day I will tell my husband where I am, but just not today.
