I'm Just Saying

You learn a lot about people as you wait in line at the dump.

Killing the engine and leaning back in the seat of the truck, Paul’s gaze fell over the man—and it’s always a man, you rarely spy a woman at the dump-- a few vehicles ahead of us.

Perhaps it’s because of the lockdown, but really, I can’t remember a more beautiful Spring. Or perhaps it’s always been this beautiful and I haven’t paid the same attention. I’m still trying to figure that one out.

Because life isn’t quite exciting enough under a pandemic lockdown, many of us went through one helluva storm in the wee hours last Monday morning.

We had, within the congregation of our Episcopal church, an inspiring woman who was famous for her vast collection of hats. Elegant, many, quirky, a few, with matching pocketbooks, my favorite was a dark green one shaped like watering can.

I smile at the sentiments expressed by the likes of Dolly Parton, who, among others, has declared, “When this passes, we’ll be better people.”

So, how ya doing?

We go through a lot of rugs in this household.

I mean, a lot. Something like every two to three months. Too many elderly bladders and delicate stomachs reacting to having secretly ingested something disgusting from the manure pile are the usual culprits. And then there’s the dogs and cats--

I am not the first to say it, and for this I am very glad, but it appears there is a ‘community spreading’ occurring in our little town as well as those surrounding it.