Multiple Choice

A few weeks ago we were informed that our house's owner is putting it up for sale. 
This has resulted in a complete abandonment of the garden on my behalf, as I've mooned about thinking about the fruitlessness of it all (in all senses of the word).  Cue:

mel·o·dra·ma

   

[mel-uh-drah-muh, -dram-uh]  Show IPA

–noun

1.

a dramatic form that does not observe the laws of cause andeffect and that exaggerates emotion and emphasizes plot or action at the expense of characterization.   

So what with all the morose reflection (and new cynical positioning on ALL property owners) I've barely had time to consider that A. the house may take months to sell; B. that the process of confirming the sale takes 2 or so months; or C. that the new owner may prefer us to stay living in the house.  There is NO TIME to spend on such fickle thoughts. I have pity and doom to admininster!


In light of all the uncertainty, I am circling around it all like a dog scratching the dirt for an old bone. (Ed: Whatever was wrong with the simple but reliable 'dog with a bone' analagy? What's wrong with a bit of brevity?) 
I know myself enough to realise I am not much of a fatalist. It doesn't matter how many times I utter the old soother "everything will work itself out" I still struggle with not being in control of my own immediate future. So the action I've ended up taking is the equal and exact opposite: inaction.


The garden has started looking like a couple of bongers live here. The grass is wild.  What's living has gone to seed. The weeds picked out 3 weeks ago have given up being dead and just started to grow again wherever they were dumped. I venture as far as the back step, trying not to look. Whatever is in pots, I want to surround myself with. I try not to gaze ahead, but rather, turn my back on the hasbeen vegie wonderland. 


So here I sit at the crossroads of a mighty multiple choice decision: 


A. Let it go like a poor man's permaculture,  be done with what's done, collect my potted plants and start the heinous, yet hopeful search for a house and garden somewhere else?


B. Believe in the vaguely comforting promise of fate and all the favours it might owe me by continuing on with the garden loving in present state, disregarding what may or may not happen?


C. Refuse to move at any stage in the process, build a garden jungle, and squat til the police have to mandhandle me out the door in nothing but my wellingtons?






cripes, its lucky I don't have any real problems.