Brooms

The house is an absolute mess between the red clover seeds strewn all over and the green split peas from the bag that unexpectedly broke as I was carrying it from one room to the next. The two dustjackets that fell off the books when I was trying to read. "Don't you know that was a valuable book?" She asked showing it to me. "It was signed by Malcolm Cowley." She ranted on about that until my eyes crossed.

I tried to help the person by sweeping with her broom but she insists upon taking it away from me. She says I ruined one broom already. I beg your pardon. I did not ruin that broom. That broom was ruined by those workmen last weekend. The new broom is fine except for some twigs sticking out here and there which happened as I was trying to use it. To help her. They just don't make brooms like they used to. They fall apart so easily now.

So she's not a housekeeper and she's not an interior decorator. She better hope this writing business works out for her.

Did I say I love those plastic shopping bags? They remind me of how deliciously satisfying shopping can be.