(Who was the comic character that used to always say that? Was it Cathy? I hope not.)
This morning I was faced not only with the sad fact that my friend The Prog Lady is going home, but also that someone in my apartment building is a total asshole. Or, more likely, the incompetent asshole super of the building is just exhibiting his strongest traits. When I looked out the window this morning to assuage the rolling nausea of a new day, instead of a clear vista to the chain link there was a giant, broken trash bag filled plopped unceremoniously into my fern garden. Judging from the broken weed tree branches littering the ground, this bag of bricks, broken pottery and dirt was heaved from a great height.
Ferns are brittle.
I am angry.
Why do I suspect SuperJerk? Well, because he was asked to help clear the fire escape to amend a violation, is ignorant as hell, and doesn't tend to think things through. As helpfully pointed out by B, the bag was also obviously calculated to have a soft landing, as to not wake us up, exposing a shady side to the thrower that SJ definitely has. I wonder if it will still be there when I get home tonight. Judging by the bags of trash still sitting in the corner that he was supposed to help us with 2 years ago, I think yes.
Luckily, ferns are also frondalicious, so the damage should be covered in a few weeks.