A sort of common phenomenon among people who live in small apartments (or at least among several I know) is having dreams in which one's apartment is suddenly bigger in one way or another. I used to have a boring but constantly recurring dream of a very specific better apartment that was exactly like mine except every time I dreamt it I would notice something new I'd not seen before, and then go about opening new drawers and marveling at how strange it was that I'd never noticed I had two bathrooms, or a downstairs. Waking up in the real space was always a disappointment.
And now I live in a new apartment, even smaller than the one before, but with a charming little garden in which I'll be planting things in a few months. And so last night I had a dream about the garden—first I came across a little patch of strawberries I hadn't realized were there, and then the more I looked the more there were and eventually I was pushing back overgrown bamboo leaves to reveal berries the size of footballs. Sadly, they were rotten, but what can you do?
The point is, I've obviously been thinking about garden-related things a little too much. I've been reading gardening books and browsing heirloom seed websites, and I found all these amazing pictures of creepy terrariums, and I've been drawing little plans of what goes where when. Honeysuckle along the back fence! And so on. Thus, I haven't finished, or even started, a single YA book all week.
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