A few years ago I lived in a pretty lil' house with nice Swedish furniture. The children had beautiful, handcrafted wooden toys to play with and my knitting was neatly arranged in rainbow order in willow baskets. Outside the birds chirped. On the side of the house a meadow gave way to a majestic forest. The garden was any horticulturist's dream. A really nice place.
All would have been heavenly harmony, but one day I saw that there was an UO in the room. It was a small UO, but rather smelly. I tried to clean the UO to make it less smelly. It worked for a bit, but then it started to grow. It got to a point where it was pretty embarrassing when visitors would come over, but, determined to hang on to the blissful living, I found a way to hide it behind a neat, white linen curtain - until it got so big that it wouldn't fit anymore. I tried to shove it out the door, but it was just too late - it wouldn't fit. I pushed really hard to get the sucker out. It didn't budge! I was stuck with the UO. As the UO grew there was less and less room for us to breathe. It greedily sucked up most of the air. Then one day the UO had gotten so big that the house blew up with a mighty blow. The debris field was large. I'm sure you heard about it on reality TV.
I thought to myself that I will not ever tolerate an UO in a place again - ever. Although at first they seem small & manageable, they do grow for sure until they get so large that they don't fit in the room anymore. Breathing gets harder until one day you either suffocate or, as in my case, the place explodes emitting poisonous gases. The peculiar thing is that the UO is not affected by this. These explosions do not turn them into UFOs as one might think. They stay as if super-duper-glued.
For a few years I went through the world unsuccessfully looking for another place. Just as I started liking the nomad-lifestyle, there in front of me was a house. Beautiful curtains, fresh flowers, amazing art, exquisite china neatly stacked in cabinets... I looked around, marveling at the beauty, constantly thinking, "This is just too good to be true. Such a splendid home cannot possibly exist. Surely an UO must be hiding somewhere!" I searched in drawers and behind dressers; under sofa cushions and in vases. I inspected every nook and cranny. I could not see an UO anywhere.
So much happiness flooded through my being. There was no UO in the room! I sat down, relaxed, had some coffee, pulled out some knitting, sent some e-mails, cooked some beans. Weeks passed by. A month. Two. I happily skipped through town, visited friends for a backyard BBQ and... that night... when I came home... and... click... switched on the light... there... was... I am afraid to say... a freakin' UO in the room. Arghhhh!
I yelled, I screamed, I cried. I stomped. I pouted. I cursed. Bleep-bleep-bleepity-bleep. No! No! No! I didn't want an UO again! They are too creepy. I tried to talk to the UO to make it go away. I begged, I pleaded. I had wine. I went to sleep. When I woke up, I thought I had had an UO nightmare, but no! The UO was still there. It was real! It's the nature of the UO, you see. Once it has arrived, it never leaves. I pretended the UO was not there. It helped some at first, but the UO just has this horrible, putrid smell to it. I put the UO in a corner, sprayed it with perfume & thought I'd be okay with it. I wouldn't have to look at it often in the corner there, but it started moving around. It just didn't want to listen to me! And then it started to grow - first slowly... and then... at a crazZZzzy, insSsSsane speed.
Gasp. --- I thought I was the only one with an UO problem, but I just learned of a friend who has one, too. Sigh. What, oh what to do with UOs?
Any stories of successful UO Bonsai cultivation?
[Maybe to be continued...]
All would have been heavenly harmony, but one day I saw that there was an UO in the room. It was a small UO, but rather smelly. I tried to clean the UO to make it less smelly. It worked for a bit, but then it started to grow. It got to a point where it was pretty embarrassing when visitors would come over, but, determined to hang on to the blissful living, I found a way to hide it behind a neat, white linen curtain - until it got so big that it wouldn't fit anymore. I tried to shove it out the door, but it was just too late - it wouldn't fit. I pushed really hard to get the sucker out. It didn't budge! I was stuck with the UO. As the UO grew there was less and less room for us to breathe. It greedily sucked up most of the air. Then one day the UO had gotten so big that the house blew up with a mighty blow. The debris field was large. I'm sure you heard about it on reality TV.
I thought to myself that I will not ever tolerate an UO in a place again - ever. Although at first they seem small & manageable, they do grow for sure until they get so large that they don't fit in the room anymore. Breathing gets harder until one day you either suffocate or, as in my case, the place explodes emitting poisonous gases. The peculiar thing is that the UO is not affected by this. These explosions do not turn them into UFOs as one might think. They stay as if super-duper-glued.
For a few years I went through the world unsuccessfully looking for another place. Just as I started liking the nomad-lifestyle, there in front of me was a house. Beautiful curtains, fresh flowers, amazing art, exquisite china neatly stacked in cabinets... I looked around, marveling at the beauty, constantly thinking, "This is just too good to be true. Such a splendid home cannot possibly exist. Surely an UO must be hiding somewhere!" I searched in drawers and behind dressers; under sofa cushions and in vases. I inspected every nook and cranny. I could not see an UO anywhere.
So much happiness flooded through my being. There was no UO in the room! I sat down, relaxed, had some coffee, pulled out some knitting, sent some e-mails, cooked some beans. Weeks passed by. A month. Two. I happily skipped through town, visited friends for a backyard BBQ and... that night... when I came home... and... click... switched on the light... there... was... I am afraid to say... a freakin' UO in the room. Arghhhh!
I yelled, I screamed, I cried. I stomped. I pouted. I cursed. Bleep-bleep-bleepity-bleep. No! No! No! I didn't want an UO again! They are too creepy. I tried to talk to the UO to make it go away. I begged, I pleaded. I had wine. I went to sleep. When I woke up, I thought I had had an UO nightmare, but no! The UO was still there. It was real! It's the nature of the UO, you see. Once it has arrived, it never leaves. I pretended the UO was not there. It helped some at first, but the UO just has this horrible, putrid smell to it. I put the UO in a corner, sprayed it with perfume & thought I'd be okay with it. I wouldn't have to look at it often in the corner there, but it started moving around. It just didn't want to listen to me! And then it started to grow - first slowly... and then... at a crazZZzzy, insSsSsane speed.
Gasp. --- I thought I was the only one with an UO problem, but I just learned of a friend who has one, too. Sigh. What, oh what to do with UOs?
Any stories of successful UO Bonsai cultivation?
[Maybe to be continued...]
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