When I was a child, I was exceedingly sensitive. If I thought I had done something wrong, even accidentally, it bothered and bothered me. However, recently I learned a valuable life lesson, namely, “Law-abiders never prosper.” This is how it went down.
Around the beginning of the year, my sister got married, and I was in her bridal party. We were out marching about the town, freezing in our short sleeves, getting pictures taken by the fabulous Grettagraphy. At one point, we needed to cross a street to get to our next photo spot. Most of the bridal party took off across the street, even though the little red hand clearly told them not to go, but my escort and I decided to be good, law-abiding citizens (his personality being much like mine) and not jaywalk. The result of our upstanding decision was that one of the coolest candid shots of the day does not include him or me, and that is how it will always be.
After grieving our exclusion, we came to inevitable conclusion that clearly, law-abiders never prosper. What else could be to blame for this? So from that day on, that line has been much on my tongue, and I have justified multiple decisions based on it.
Sometimes the tires of my car cross the yellow line.
Do you think I’d have found the secret garden I wrote last about if I hadn’t learned this?
I eat grapes without washing them.
I climb stairs that aren’t mine, for a better view of the town.
I sit on the roof beside our apartment, which I’m not at all sure I’m supposed to do.
And my latest rum schpringa adventure is this: Lyn and I have a small rooftop garden, consisting of tomatoes, cucumbers, basil, and mint (and yes, it’s on the rooftop we aren’t sure we are allowed to access). When I bought the tomato plants, the pack came with one more plant than fit into the pots on the rooftop, so instead of dumping poor little tomato into the garbage, I decided to give him a better life. Behind our apartment is a neglected patch of dirt, with just a few straggly plants in it. All that empty soil is simply begging to be filled, so late one night, Abby and I snuck out, armed with a spade, the tomato, and a water bottle, and we redeemed both the tomato and the forlorn flower bed. Some young people sneak out to smoke pot; we sneak out to plant vegetables.
See our evil, sneaky faces? It was great fun, and I look forward to eating my fill of fresh salsa later this summer from our clandestine plant. So you see it has been proved, law-abiders never prosper, but living a life that is risky at best is totally worth it.