Ivy

Living in the suburbs, you have to strike a fine balancing act with your neighbors.
You want to be close enough to them that if your house is burning down they’ll come help you. At the same time, you have to keep enough distance that they won’t stage an intervention when you wake up at noon and wear the same stained sweatpants five days in a row.
 
I’m new to the suburbs, so my neighbors still treat me with friendly caution. I have a butch haircut, but I wear mermaid leggings and dresses while I’m gardening, so I'm pretty sure they don’t know what to make of me yet.


Today, my neighbor and I had a fake argument about whose job it was to cut the ivy growing between our homes. I said the roots were on my side of the fence, so it was my job, and he said the roots were on his side, so it was his job. In the end, he ceded and I continued with my task. 


English Ivy is a terrible invasive species. It crawls up trees and sucks the lifeblood out of them. It crawls everywhere. To kill it, you have to burn it, like a zombie corpse. Otherwise the clippings grow roots and come back to life again. 
Ivy is now my arch enemy. I enjoy hacking at it. I love mutilating living creatures that can’t run away or resist. 
That’s why I’m a vegetarian. 


Not that I have any beef with people who eat meat. In fact, I respect people who shoot their own food, like Mark Zuckerberg. What do you think Mark Zuckerberg wears when he goes hunting? Do you think he has a camo sweatshirt and little camo flip flops?

Update: 

I missed out on The Boring Company's flamethrower sale,  but thankfully you can buy a weed torch (basically a mini-flamethrower) for under $50, which is way more affordable and apparently just as much fire. I think this is going to be my ivy destroying method.