Please Don't Eat the Daisies

So one of the heuristics I use in my work is this thing called a "daisy model," where we put all of the different stories at play in a little daisy and then shade the ones that are foregrounded in a particular episode. (Was that Charlie Brown grown up speak?) So I'm making all these little powerpoint daisies all the livelong day as I am immersed in my analysis.

And I keep channeling that catchy late 60s movie based on the Jean Kerr book, where the original Yummy Mummy Doris Day was reshuffled from New York City to the suburbs, where she ended up prancing around her yard with a ukulele with her 3 rapscallion boys singing the oh-so-earwormy Please Don't Eat the Daisies.

Perhaps I've gone bonkers, here in the suburbs, grinding away while Ron the plumber painstakingly installs a shower, day after day. I just want to know when I get to get all glammed up and smoke a cigarette with David Niven.