It was summer. The Chap and I were staying at the cottage on the Big Lake. My brother-in-law had joined us. We headed to the market at the traffic circle--the gateway to our town on the lake--to stock up on provisions. I was a serious fisherwoman and wanted some crawlers. The Porter men, being addicted to ice cream, needed a fresh supply.
I met them at the checkout with my carton of worms. They had their carton of ice cream. The Chap whipped out his wallet. The cashier rang up the purchases.
The worms cost more than the ice cream.
"Cheaper than worms!" said I.
It's a phrase we use a lot.
Yesterday I resurrected it after a) filing my candidacy for state office and b) purchasing worms.
It costs all of two bucks to file. My tradition is to empty my piggy bank and pay it in small change: eight quarters.
After completing my round of errands--filing at the Town Offices, mandolin lesson in the Capital City, stop at the vet to pick up heartworm pills for the pups--my last stop was the market at the traffic circle in the town in which I officially reside. (Why do I inevitably wind up living near roundabouts? So I won't feel too nostalgic for England?) I wanted worms for my baby turtles becase I'm feeding them up before releasing them, and to feed Walter my fish at the Big Lake.
The worms cost something north of the two bucks I spent to file for State Representative. Becoming a candidate is also "cheaper than worms."
Here's today's female turtle, seeking a place to lay her eggs.
Back to housecleaning.
Have a great weekend!
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