Into the annals of strange things that happen when I answer the door, add the man who inquired, "Would you like any free oil?"
Turns out he was replacing a neighbor's heating-oil tank, which was not as empty as he'd been led to believe, so he had some fuel to drain before he could finish the job, and most everyone else close by has natural gas heat, so could he just lug it over in five-gallon cans and pour it into my fill pipe? . . .
Sometimes this place is more like Harmony than you'd expect.
In short, yesterday turned out to be fruitful. Not only did I acquire free heat, but I also put four quarts of chicken stock and four half-pints of pesto into the freezer, listened to the Red Sox break an embarrassing nine-game skid, and even got some actual paying work done.
Today will be another olio: editing a biography, running errands for Tom (e.g., picking up the tile for our kitchen backsplash), processing peppers for the freezer, copying out some Blake poems, taking a yoga class, washing towels, cleaning cured garlic for storage . . .
Here's a lyric by Thomas Wyatt. I give it to you in modern spelling, though I have been enjoying puzzling out "They fly from me that sometime did me seke / With naked fote stalking in my chamber" . . .
1 comment:
Such a delightful day you had!! So much ordinary bounty.
And I am happily stealing "to use newfangleness" as a poem prompt.
Take good care,
C
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