To keep or not to keep

I water my plants at night. Late night. Like, 11:00 p.m. night. Why? Because I'm not a morning person, I work full time and if I could figure out any other way for those damn plants to water themselves, I would have by now. Those shrubbery ingrates just keep taking, and they're not giving a whole hell of a lot back.

Let's go off on a tangent together before we get to the matter at hand. My plants and I have been in a friendship timeout for about 10 months now. They're not fond of me, I'm not fond of them, and we both know it. I water them, they die. I don't water them, they die. I put them in the sun, they die. I put them in the shade, they die. I walk by them, they hiss.

OK, not really, but they might as well. A green thumb I have not.

Back to our regularly scheduled programming:

A couple of nights ago, I was watering the poor excuses for exterior home decor, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw a glimmer. It looked like this:

(Don't even get me started on the amazon grass growing in front of PPT's window.)

See the pretty shiny thing to the right? That's my discovery! What was said glimmer, you ask? A treasure, perhaps? A 54-carat diamond? Nay, friendly folks, nay.

IT WAS A SHOPPING CART. In my front yard.

For days now, I've been facing a moral dilemma: to keep or not to keep. Yes, it screams of trailer parks and Bud Light, but think of all the things my family could do with our very own shopping cart. PPT could put The Dictator in there and crash him into walls. I could use it as toy storage in a bedroom. I could walk into Walmart, and when the nice 102-year old man working the front door asks me if I need a cart, I could say all smarmy-like, "No thank you. I BROUGHT MY OWN."

I'm just saying- the possibilities are endless.