They say a bad day here …

is a good day anywhere else.  I don’t who said that, but I would imagine it’s been said quite often about many places.  And it’s not hard to feel that way about Pequea when you are sitting in the sunroom gazing at the river through the trees.

Might be a little harder to say when you’ve fallen in a foot of water, decomposing leaves and tadpoles at the bottom of a pool that’s not submitting to our attempts to empty it.  Might be, but really wasn’t so hard to say.  I hopped in there because I was so gung-ho about moving along the project, and I wanted to be in on the action.  Well, fat, middle-aged women should probably be more careful about what kind of action they seek, but given that I’m not so careful, there I was, wet, slimy, and part of the action.

At the end of the day, the pool still remained unempty.  I, however, had the joy of doing something rash, and interesting, and feel blessed to not pay a higher price than a little extra laundry for the joy of an interesting day in Pequea.

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