Apparently, when we leave town for a week and NJ gets hit with endless rain, this is what happens to the flowerbed:

I can’t even begin to wrap my head around all the grass and weeds that grew in such a short time. There’s no way I can weed all that, and I can’t even tell where my flower bulbs would be to pull them up and save them. I’m afraid that, in the words of Sigourney Weaver in Aliens, we’ll have to “nuke the entire site for morbid. It’s the only way to be sure.” Hopefully I can save the bushes and most of the bulbs. But it’s still gross and rainy, so by the time I can get out there and do something about this situation the grass may have engulfed the house.

I’ve been home for less than a day, and I already feel like I’m not doing enough. I ordered groceries, looked at magazines, started laundry, talked to family. But it’s now officially August, so I’m on the downhill end of my summer. Every day feels like it needs to be packed, but I can’t focus on anything today.