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01 June 2011

where's the broom?

About 55 miles out on the Hole-in-the-Rock road, in perhaps one of the remotest areas left in this country, sits this ramshackle trailer. 

Much is left to the imagination- how long has it been here? how long was it used before someone trashed the place? is it haunted? what size are the jeans left there on the divan?

The kids were very creeped out. Snooping around this trailer is one of those childhood memories that'll be referenced among siblings and cousins for-ev-er. 
Meanwhile, I'm wondering if that handmade quilt there can be salvaged, Grandma Thelma is rolling over in her grave watching her precious quilt rotting and giving desert rodents a place to birth their babies.

Guys, whose turn is it to do the dishes? and I think we are out of paper towels...
No, but seriously, can you say creative writing assignment?

We couldn't help doing a little role play with the dirty dishes. And what a relief it was to find this type of periodical among the papers moldering in the corner, (and not the other kind so often stumbled upon in situations like these...) by the by, the Ensign in Q's hand there is dated 1999.

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