The Consolation Of Nature And Literature
I took yesterday off to go biking. (I had to work three or four hours last weekend to make up for it because I took last Wednesday off to go hiking and Labor Day turned into a four-day event here, and you can't write the same book eight times without doing anything at all.) Well, this lovely bike trail went right by--and I mean right by--a sewage treatment plant. I happened to be traveling with my computer guy, who stopped, looked over his shoulder at me, and said, "Can you hear the fountain of poop?" In all likelihood, it wasn't a real fountain of poop, but some other kind of aeration thingie, but it did make a noise.
There were several structures at this site, one or two of which must not have had roofs. They appeared to be accessible from above because Computer Guy gleefully pointed out the circular life preservers stored along a metal fence at the top of one of the buildings. "They're there in case somebody falls in!" he exclaimed, sounding delighted at the prospect.
Soon after that we stopped for lunch.
Labels: Literature is my life
2 Comments:
Sounds like a perfect day to me!
The only thing that would have made it better would have been if I had come home and found that Chapter Four had written itself while I was gone.
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