Not In Rochester
I'll tell you one thing. It's colder than a frozen possum's butt out there. Wouldn't be so bad without the 30 mph northern gusts. I'm raking leaves in a windstorm. I come in and, frankly, the cat looks a little too happy so I put her out. The sun was shining for awhile and I thought I would work on my tan while me and the cat rake leaves in a windstorm. But it's clouded up now and little snowflakes are falling even though it's forty degrees. Me and the cat we sit back and think about how fortunate we are. The cat says, I am happy not to be in Rochester.
The sun is shining over there on Mt. Marshall but not over here in the little forest behind my house. The leaves are wet and plentiful. No, I'm not raking up the pine needles. I wish I had me a little dead leaf eating goat. Yeah, I hear you, be careful what you wish for. Especially if you are not going to punctate any better than that. I brought the cat in but I had to put her back out for biting me. I'm disappointed in you I yelled after her as she ran through the hole in the breezeway screen. She favors my right arm. I have 19 puncture marks and six beautiful scratches.
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