Grass

If I was to meet Prince Harry in a bar, I probably wouldn't recognize him. I really don't find the Royal Family particularly attractive, so I would just assume that it was another freckly redhead with a fake accent trying to impress me. That is, unless he was wearing a crown with some jewels and ornate filagree, then that would tip me off. I have accomplished absolutely nothing today. I have lost my shed keys (again) , and was going to cut the grass. I usually carry about 30 keys on my keychain, this ensures that I always have the one I need. Most of the keys are from previous addresses, and I realize, I could get rid of them, but, since the wad of keys is heavy, and is obvious, I don't lose them. I made the mistake of disconnecting my mail key and the shed key for some obtuse reason. Now I can't find them anywhere. It seems, that there is a neighbourhood battle of who can cut the grass first. Although it is a known fact that a more lush and long grass property coverage (couldn't think of the correct term here), is more healthy and less prone to weeds, everyone is rushing to mow. Now I will be considered the Turf Rebel, as my dandelions and daisies rear their heads.