You must destroy it "root and boot," Poirot was saying in an episode we watched recently. Captain Hastings gently reminded him that the phrase is "root and branch." Either way you say it, if you get the root you have it defeated.
I have been pulling vines out of my garden beds for weeks now. For years I pulled them off and cut them to free the tops of the camellias, and I pushed them aside from the daylilies, and that had to be enough. It was all I could manage with obligations to work and family. But now I am determined. Every weekend is devoted to pulling up the roots. Five piles and containers go on the curb every Sunday night and are carried away Monday morning. It is more than the compost pile can handle. Until yesterday I did not know why or how I had finally found the time and the strength to see it through. I certainly had time before, but I chose to use it or fritter it way on other things. Yesterday it struck me. I am pulling up rhabdomyosarcoma by the roots. It is a revenge on a different but related astral plane. My back hurts, my shoulders hurt. I can't wait to get out there again.
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