Yelling At Strangers
Maybe you’ll understand me if I’m louder.
My house is old. Like, really, really, really old. 1893 old. It’s not quaint, or rustic, or “historical”. It’s just old.
I have a retaining wall made out of railroad ties that keeps my lawn, and subsequently my house, from becoming one with the gravel driveway. The ties have long since rotted away…