G has ordered some dirt. She is not home. A couple arrives in a white station wagon. They park in our garage. The guy has dirt piled on a blue blanket in the back seat and some more on top of the sun visors. They want $25. He pulls the dirt blanket out onto our front lawn. I write him a check made out to ‘Country-Tried’, and worry that G will say we got screwed.
Rowdy’s Dream Blog #332: Dirt For Sale
1 min read
