Laundry with soundtrack at no extra cost
A whale is not a fish, but whether you see one is still a question of scale. During a picnic at East Point, I was urged to follow the pointed finger. Still not enough to say that the black on black movement was an intelligent life form. For now, I remain convinced that all things are possible, but few are realized.
This was a day to seek hair care (not caring about hair) and refuel for hours of driving from here to there and back again. This time around, Montague. A brief interlude; time for a quick café lunch and a chance to show the dog to yet another stranger. The dog is very complacent about such things.
We also visited another home that caught the wandering eye. Unlike certain parts of the world, around here people respond to you taking pictures of their house with an invitation to see the interior – top to bottom and along the sides. More food for thought. It didn’t take long with Google to find out who had actually built the home, so I now have the name of another qualified contractor.
In Georgetown, we found a new ice cream parlour (OK, room) and a luthier. The shop wasn’t open when we arrived, but patience pays off. A chance to tour the workshop, learn a bit about how the humidity level of a particular piece of hard wood can be determined and a reaffirmation that this might not be the way to get rich quickly.
And now it’s laundry night, with a live music session outside by the campfire.
