
You never know what we'll churn up in cleaning a stall

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Gertie Stein: Every writer wants to be told how good he is, how good he is, how good he is.
The virus can’t enter your body without consent.
Two high-school swimmers, getting suited up for their daily practice.
What other bad counsel have you heard?
Here I am, running errands around town, realize I’m driving with my car window rolled down, the temperature is 56 degrees, Fahrenheit, and it’s still February. Look, the reading was only 20 degrees this morning, and the frost was heavy. Still, having the window open feels natural, and the fresh air’s wonderful.
At the next stoplight, I look around and realize half of the other drivers also have their car windows open. Makes me think of the joke about how the drivers in Florida would all have their heat turned on if it was ten degrees warmer than here.
As I move on, I start wondering about the drivers who still have their windows rolled up. Is it because they have their air conditioning on?
We still have March and the potential for some heavy snowfall ahead.
It’s what some people do when they can’t get the real thing.
(We’re not talking about Coca-Cola.)
For me, shaken, not stirred, served with a big olive.
Just so you know where I stand. Not that they show up in any of my novels, as far as I recall. Not even a spill.