Mark thinks I break his shit on purpose. I break glasses, dishes, just about anything that is breakable. That statue that he tossed into the swimming pool a couple of weeks ago, that was thrown because I had knocked it over and chipped it. Yesterday I was sprucing up the yard. I bought tons of flowers and I was out in the front garden moving things around, getting ready to plant them. That's when Mark came out and stood there watching me.
"Hey, is that my gazing ball laying over there?"
I looked down, sure enough there was the "gazing ball" that Mark had bought a couple of years ago. It's the third gazing ball he has purchased and put out for the elements to trash. Both of the previous gazing balls suffered a fatal fall. One from the wind blowing it over, and the other one broken by the tree trimmers. The one broken by the tree trimmers elicited a profane tirade from Mark that included slurs against the Mexican workers that would have made Donald Trump proud. Anyway, I bent over and picked Mark's gazing ball from out of the vines and stood it up. The ball teetered for a moment, and then... CRASH tinkle.... clink.
"Waaaaaaaa... you broke that on purpose. you've always hated my gazing balls.. Waaaaaaaaa..."
I did not break the gazing ball on purpose. I never break anything of Mark's on purpose. I have horrible eyesight, horrible coordination, and horrible spatial awareness, so I am always breaking things. But yes, I have always hated those gazing balls.