Everything was going very well
A few years ago, I was gardening for my mother. the garden itself had been really overrun with weeds, so I planned to cultivate the entire, very large, garden. I pulled some pointy tools from the shed and began my work. Everything was going very well. The sun was beating down on me and I could feel the tan starting on the back of my neck. I finally got all the weeds out and the time came to begin digging down to flip dirt. I grabbed a four-pronged tool and began to break up the dirt. It started out just fine. I took one last whack and screamed as I pulled my tool from the earth. On the end, stabbed through the heart and brain, was a toad. I have never returned to gardening. Perhaps I am better off just to stick with m-turking.
