So, this is the happy compost this afternoon. I don't know what I would do if I lived in a city. Its been so long that I have forgotten (oublié) how one deals with wet, slurppy (onctueuse) refuse. But here in the country one plays with it.
Speaking of compost, I have a had a mind full of negative thoughts concerning an old friend. Well, in fact an ex-friend actually, as she decided that I was no longer worthy of her esteem. Its nothing romantic or anything, just that we have changed. She has gone to to the desert, and I, to the sea, so to speak. As much I rationalize it, it still burns a small hole (petit trou) in my shirt. It has been hard to learn to let go, always has, and still seems to be, despite all the evidence to the contrary. I hate to be unappreciated by a really good friend. It drives me nuts actually. On the other hand, I have a wonderful friend of 30 years (an ex-girlfriend). She told me recently that she no longer gives up on friends. Through all the baloney (la connerie) she loves them and sticks it out for the long term.
"I mean: how many years do we have left?" she said.
I remember really loving her when she said that over the telephone. Personally, I am still running an inventory on a few of my friends, and the funny part about it is that none of them even know it!
I admit its immature but there it is. I am reduced (reduit) to abusing vegetable scraps.