I'm not one to really gush over the gooeyness associated with anything concerning love. However, when the mood strikes us, I must admit that my boyfriend and I can be mushy over each other - it only lasts for about three seconds, followed by a full five minutes of us in fits of laughter at the fact we could be that lame.
In my little corner of Perth, we have our rubbish pick up happening next week - which usually means its just a little bit of a free garage sale on everyones front door. I, myself, have already snatched a small toddler bike for my nephew. Someone came and took the fridge from our front lawn...and left its door. Another came and stole just the veggie drawer. Ryan (the bf) and I had our eyes on this really nice recliner a few doors down, it looked in pristine condition - but we were dilliberating over what possibly could have been wrong with it (my first thought was that someone died in it) for too long and the lovely vandals of our neighbourhood got their hands on and ripped it to shreds - we found bits of it down the road in the middle of our round-a-bout.
I thought about the irony of having once-loved items sitting on your front lawn, in view of all things nasty, such as heat, bugs, and evil bore-watered sprinklers. Across the road from me is this cot, and it looks rather old...I wonder how many kids had gone through this mini-prison. The teddy bear is mine - my most recent Valentines gift...you can shush now about the hypocrisy of what I had written previously. Anyway, I am amused at the idea of something so commercialised of love could be sitting in a pile of trash, waiting day after day to be rescued from the curb and thrown into a bigger pile of trash to be someone elses treasure one day.
So this is that.
Aesthetically Yours,
Steph
