Holy tango - we brew corn...
I realized last night, after typing ten pages (double-spaced) on the new computer that the time was set incorrectly, and that it was not midnight, but a few hours later: such is the power of an epic (or the confessional first-person explanation of an aggressor with a knife, and the travails of a newly-arrived academic team impresario who plots to overthrow the sitting coach).
After I came home from a strange, coachless Academic practice (held on the second floor of the State Association of School Councils) I fell into a void that knows no time or space, my Grandmother's house. After vacuuming for an hour in vain, I discovered part of the reason that the fake ladybugs were everywhere, a window was ajar. I then spent the rest of the visit helping her to clean her kitchen, which was much more dramatic than it would sound, since she has a Depression-era philosophy about food perishability.
I went out to brace the redbud in the front yard with all the appropiate lumber in the garage that looked strong enough. Something is about to happen, moving West to East. My bones grow cold...
After I came home from a strange, coachless Academic practice (held on the second floor of the State Association of School Councils) I fell into a void that knows no time or space, my Grandmother's house. After vacuuming for an hour in vain, I discovered part of the reason that the fake ladybugs were everywhere, a window was ajar. I then spent the rest of the visit helping her to clean her kitchen, which was much more dramatic than it would sound, since she has a Depression-era philosophy about food perishability.
I went out to brace the redbud in the front yard with all the appropiate lumber in the garage that looked strong enough. Something is about to happen, moving West to East. My bones grow cold...