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Show SO HERE 'TIS Labor Day and I haven't done a lick of Labor all day. Really, there isn't a lot of labor to do around here maybe I could go out and pull some grass out of the roses but they're prickly. It'll soon be time to sharpen sharp-en the hatchet for My Lady Fair Louise, who will be starting out on her trapping route. But no hurry. Maybe next week. Let's face it nearly aU of my labor is done sitting down. Apparently I'mnot very successful at anything else. WORST FLOP of all was a summer spent, many years ago, selling Real Silk Hosiery, Hos-iery, door to door. I was a complete flop. All the ladies asked me in, offered me a glass of milk and two cookies. But not a sale of Real Silk hosiery. Not one. They gave up on me. Probably the most disagreeable dis-agreeable Labor I remember is starting fires. One year in high school I had a job starting fires in three sep arate offices in a lawyer's suite. In mid- February, when I'd been up till midnight, mid-night, that was no fun. More fire-starting when I was learning the newspaper business from far below the bottom up. Two fires every morning-and I had to haul two scuttles of coal three blocks through the snow. In the dark. This little starter, followed by nine hours work, six days a week, paid me six bucks a week. (GOSH, YOU'D THINK I'd have hated newspaper business, busi-ness, wouldn't you?) Most work on the farm, as a kid, was quite enjoyable. Except cutting down cockle-burrs cockle-burrs with a hoe. Or picking potato bugs, or shoveling manure. Or churning. Gosh, all that Labor sounds terrible ter-rible no wonder I left the farm. This is the kind of a day an annual Labor Day when MLF is apt to start me moving furniture. Bettei I get lost. Guess I'll go inspect in-spect the grass on the golf course. Mac. |