September 16, 2017
People tell my landlady, “You’re too Type A, Marsh. You don’t know how to relax.” I hear it so often, it must be true. So wanting only the best for her as she does for me, I teach her by example to relax. She would place her dainty paws one by one (she has two) over the lip of the compost heap, gaze reflectively toward the horizon for a moment and then slowly turn clockwise thrice. And then she would lower her body to the ground and inhale the therapeutic aroma; avocado rinds, red worms, salad leavings, broccoli ends, bat guano, apple peelings, steer poo. The moisture from decomposing matter would provide a cool cradle for a hot autumn afternoon. Gently she would drift off to rest. In four hours she would arise refreshed and trot indoors for a snack and the invigorating sound of the vacuum cleaner.
