Transitory neighbourhood
If you are nomadic, and you wander through the same territory often enough, the rules of the game require that you see the same people from time to time through time. Campgrounds are like that. Our neighbour from past years is back, with Bill the dog. Feels like home. We don’t have to spend a long time getting acquainted; we both “live here”, but our schedules are not always coincident.
Our travels up and down the roads have revealed an increase in wildlife. Rabbits, skunks, muskrats, foxes. We even saw a fox waiting for a break in traffic to cross the road (up by the Mountie barracks in Souris). If nobody sleeps there, does it still rate the title “barracks” or is this residual language?
We were hungry when we got to town this afternoon. Surely, Shirley? Indeed. Scallopburgers and sides of clams with a quartet of gulls. Seaside bliss. Then, the Co-Op to puzzle through the mysteries of commerce. Why can’t we use a random member number? If you have no cash left in the till, why doesn’t the Monopoly rule that says you must leave the game apply? Why does it take two people to deliver pop? Why is there only one package of cinnamon rolls left in the whole community?
Over at the CAP, there was room on the floor for one more. Ages since I scored a laptop position for my laptop. They’re in the throes of personnel changes, so the friendly fellow that has been in charge is moving to a new location at the end of the week. The same open door policy should apply, though. Wonderful use of tax monies.
