Thursday, December 3, 2009

rain

"It's raining," I say. Actually, it's pouring. The rain was leaking through the roof of my car.

"So?" The cashier looks at my suedge wedges. "Are you going to the fields?"

Only if you're going to weed with your badza like a good Shona mother do you have a license to complain, apparently. Otherwise...

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