Dandelions and Kibbles

My apartment is overflowing with bouquets of dandelions. They're every where, and filling up every vase, glass, mug, and bowl in the place. See, The Kid likes her flowers, and she doesn't discriminate. Since they're a gift from The Kid, it would be down right evil for me to throw them away, which means I'm stuck trying to house those perky yellow weeds in any way I can. Lately, I've taken up laying a trail of dandelions everywhere I go. Way I figure, it doesn't count as hucking them if I simply 'forget' them, or pass them on. So they're my new calling card. Want to find me? Just follow the yellow weed road.
After I dropped The Kid at daycare the other day, I cut through the college, and deposited a bouquet of dandelions at the security booth, at which point Security Guard No.2 told me his tale of how he had recently discovered that those shiny yellow blooms and the fun-to-blow puffballs where one and the same.
Ever have one of those Canadian-centric moments? All I could think to say was, "Where are you from?!?" Right when you think your on top of the notion of cultural and regional differences, and figure that you've figured out that you don't, actually, have a perfect grasp on how the world functions outside of your own stomping grounds, you get thrown for a loop by the simple notion that dandelions are not universal. Heck, they're not even global.
I'm still trying to cope.

Last semester, I forgot to water the plants. They survived, and honestly their half-dead state wasn't any different prior to, during, or proceeding the dry spell. This semester, it was kibbles. I forgot cat food. Repeatedly. (Really, my place is a veritable jungle, what with the plants, fish, cat, and of course my pint sized Amazon Warrior, The Kid, so someone's gotta miss out.)
So since I'm a firm believer in feeding the cat The Good Food, I will not pick up a box of generic kibbles at the corner store. Instead, I get a can or two of wet food, and figure I'd get to the grocery store in good time. But a can of cat food only lasts a day, and as chance would have it, I'd forget to get to the store that day.
At first, this wasn't too much of a problem. I seemed to have an inordinately large supply of canned tuna 'round here. So every time I'd get The Kid to bed, only to realize that the cat bowl was empty and the kibbles were gone, I'd toss some tuna her way. But then the tuna ran out. And then the salmon. And the turkey. Hell, I fed her spam, once.
So this evening was the straw that broke the camels back: I'm going to the store first thing tomorrow, and I'm buying out the kibble aisle.
That's right; this evening, I actually ordered delivery. For the cat.