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Language Log

Sunday, Sept. 11, 2022 - 7:22 a.m.

A couple weeks ago I had dumped some extra potting soil in the back yard near the ant colony entrance. Now they keep picking up pieces and arranging them on the edge of the patio like they do the dried grasses at other times of year. I swept them all off yesterday because I wanted to keep the patio swept, but they’ve put them all back now. And more. I just need to understand their plan, here. Are they going to clean up after themselves? And what would they do if the patio wasn’t here? It’s the last time I give them potting soil, I tell you what.

I saw this one IG post where this artist I follow made a little art exchange in front of his house, on a little free library model, except art. I wish I had the time to do that. I miss just puttering around and coming up with random projects and giving things away. I also like having money and a sense of contributing financially, and I like the things I do with my money. So. Maybe some other time.

I was dreaming last night of Florida, dreaming/wishing again about buying a house in my hometown, maybe the old house I lived in when I was tiny before we moved into the boat. Then I remembered: 1) Florida housing prices 2) climate change 3) how small the house would seem now. I don’t know why I’m still attached to that house.

I also still dream of us buying something large enough or one of these multi family properties big enough for Alice and Gary to move out here with us and not charge them exorbitant rent, just be a weird neurodivergent compound. That one’s really bonkers, though.

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