This made me sad:

So today I took my first step into the outdoors and witnessed the abhorrence of the garden.


Equipped with my protective pink garden gloves, I noticed a fly was in the wrong place: it was crawling on the ground. 

I picked it up, and to my abhorrence discovered that it only had one fully functional wing.

Poor fly. Poor, poor fly. The psychological pain of no longer having the freedom to fly must supersede the physical pain of loosing the wing :( I've dreamed of flying and it's sad waking up and losing the power. Sympathies are avec. X 

Thus, I now know to abide by spongebob's mantra:



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