****Addition to this post @10:45 EST.
Just found this incoming link from Joanne Lee-
That is so nice! Now, I wish I had time to change today’s post. It’s really not that appropriate. I encourage all of you new readers to check out my other posts. They are mellow and more tasteful, I hope. Sorry about this one. It’s because I write young adult books. I have the brain of a teenager. Geeze, so true.
When the neighborhood is covered with a fresh coat of snow, you never really wonder what’s underneath all of the beauty until spring arrives and the harsh realities of mud season hits. I’ll admit mud season is not my favorite. It’s wet. It’s messy. But this season has been particularly gross. It’s not the double dog doo in my poop garden (a nasty problem I’m working on), it’s something more sinister than that.
You see at Willard Beach there seems to be some funny business going on in the snow banks. You know what I mean about funny business right? Hanky panky. Romancing the snow. Loving the slush. Yes, we are littered with used condoms. I’ve counted seven. They are floating in the mud. Hanging on the street corner. Nestled in the sand. Seriously, what is going on down there? It’s not that nice out. It’s cold at the beach. Freak shows!
I know…..I know that I need to pick them up before one of dogs eats one- continuing my dog saga of troubles. Can’t you imagine Lulu grabbing one of those puppies? Gross. Just gross.
What would you do? Pick up or keep counting? Not sure.