Four more bags to sort, and I've achieved my goal for the day.

I have only one thing to say: I hate you, three-awn grass. I hate you and all your relatives. I hate your fineness, the way you form huge matted "nests" I have to dig through in the bags. I hate the way you cling to all the other species and make them hard to separate. And I especially hate your seeds, the invidious sharp little seeds that have a way of burrowing into the cuffs of my shirt and finding their way all throughout my clothes - even though I'm wearing a lab coat for "protection." I hate that I will now have to sit and pick the sweater I wore yesterday clean, because of your stupid seeds (and because the boiler isn't working in this building and I have to wear a sweater.) And I hated finding your seed embedded in the fleshy place of my hand, between the thumb and forefinger, when I was showering last night.