9.19.365: A Pimped Out Crib

I hate gardening.

Really. Hate.

But it’s one of those things that people who own homes, who are also pretending to be responsible adults, have to do. So, I do. However there is one amazing aspect to gardening. You find things like this tucked amongst the rocks in your planter. (Wait- is it a planter if it has no plants, just weeds? I’m going to assume yes.) I can imagine the moth that emerged from this blinged out cocoon. He was all, “Later, broz. This place was cool, but I gotta fly yo.” And then he threw a West Side Planter sign and took off.

My head is a very strange place.

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