The hills are alive with the smell of pig shit.
2:57 p.m.
I really did go to the bank first, where I deposited said cheque and brought the passbook up to date, then wandered over to BIack Cat B00ks, detouring through Java so I could use the bathroom, and bumping into Jojo, whom I complimented again on her wonderful performance in the play last week. Then I spent a very pleasant hour with Janice, catching up on stuff, telling her all my computer-related woes, and she told me about the swimming and canoeing she and her man have been doing on weekends, as well as the folk festival they attended in nearby Vermont. She looks great. I ended up buying a book from her, called A Glut of Av0cados, a thin, narrow book singing the praises of that green fruit and providing lots of recipes as well, complete with illustrations, all in green of course.
Then I stopped at the pharmacy where I bought vitamins (iron pills too), and again at the health food store where I got an all-natural carbonated fruit beverage with which to slake my mighty thirst before the half-hour walk home.
The wind is from the south-east, wafting the aroma of pig shit from the experimental farm through the open windows. It nearly knocked me over as I was walking up M0ulton Hill, and it�s not much better inside the house. The project over there is to produce fodder to minimize the odor of porcine excrement. �Tain�t working.
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