I’m sick of those roses! They’re the bane of my existence!

         I thought they’d be a lovely addition to my garden, all classic and beautiful and… and… pink, but they’ve been nothing but an absolute pain!

         This is the third time this week that I’ve hurt myself doing my regular pruning, and I’m over it! How exactly is a man supposed to tend lovingly to his garden if his garden hates him?!

         Phew. Okay. Deep breaths. Just like your therapist taught you.

         (Stupid therapist, sided with my wife on everything anyway…)

         And I know what you’re all thinking, out there on the internet! “But George, why don’t you just buy thornless roses online? Then you won’t have to deal with thorns at all!”

         And do you know what I say to that?

         That’s, uh… that’s actually pretty good advice. It’s what I opened up the computer to do, now that I think about it. I guess I had this blog already open from the last time that I used the blasted thing, and I had the speech-to-thingy turned on, and I just got to ranting…

         Cynthia always told me that she hated it when I got to ranting. Oh, Cynthia… maybe you and the therapist were right when you teamed up on me in those sessions. Maybe I am just a sad, lonely man, stuck in the past and terrified of his mother.

         Woah, this speech-to-text software has gotten incredible. Stop typing. No, don’t type that. Stop typing!

         Ugh, whatever. You may as well follow along as I try and track down some standard roses for sale in Australia, the ones without the thorns.

Wait, is that standard? They must be. Why would the standard ones have thorns? That makes zero sense. Surely, we as a society have evolved beyond allowing thorns to exist on our roses.

Huh. I guess not.

Ridiculous. We’re a failure as a species.

Ah, whatever. I only grew roses because I was scared of my mother anyway.