…on the first day of the new year, when I step outside to go to the basement of the front house and go do laundry:
A big brown jagged hunk sits there on the concrete slab in front of my cottage, and at first I think that it's a brick like maybe some prowler with bad intentions had put it there, somehow, but then I look more closely and it’s a dry and gnawed-up hunk of brown bread that had become vaguely block-like in shape, one presumably dropped there by squirrels who were “over it,” and so I kick it away with my flip-flopped foot and it flies towards the fence on the other side of the backyard before coming to rest under the edge of the woodpile there, and as it does that my flip-flop comes off my foot and shoots up in the air, tumbling end over end as it falls like six-to-eight feet away from me on the pathway that leads around the front house towards my cottage, as I start hopping in short stunted hops on one foot to go over to it, to fetch it.
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