cincinnatus_c: loon (Default)
So here's a hypothesis: a lot of the difference between how COVID is dealt with in the US and how it's dealt with in Canada (and the rest of the developed world) is a result of the fact that governments are not responsible for hospitals in the US like they are in Canada. In Canada, health care is one of the provinces' two main businesses, along with education. The people who run hospitals in Ontario lean more or less directly on the provincial government and are technically public servants of the province. If Ontario hospitals are in crisis, the Ontario government is in crisis. This I assume--am I wrong?--is not the case in the US: if the people who run hospitals in, say, the state of New York (which still has a higher per capita daily infection rate than Ontario does, and way higher per capita daily death rate) think their hospitals are in crisis, that isn't automatically the problem of the New York state government. Naturally the New York state government might take an interest in it, but it's an interest that it can balance against competing interests. The Ontario government, on the other hand, has only one other interest--education--generally taken to be legitimately competing at anything like the same level with its interest in the public health care system. And the way things have played out have gone to show that in the public mind, the interests of health care absolutely and completely trump the interests of education. This does not create, but it does heighten, the problem that "listen to the experts" means listen to the experts on what COVID, specifically, is going to do, whose #1 interest is specifically in what it is going to do to the health care system, and whose most basic particular interest in that lies in what it's going to do to hospitals. (The way "public health" has fallen so completely under the sway of the-COVID-the-whole-COVID-and-nothing-but-the-COVID when the staggering costs of lockdown-type COVID-mitigation strategies in terms of the kinds of things public health people have been calling "social determinants of health" in the last couple of decades--which were expressed in a lot of public health response to the BLM protests of 2020 (and which I heard a bit of coming out of public health people last September, before it was completely overwhelmed, about the importance of getting kids back in school [ETA: and I guess maybe a bit of this is spontaneously emerging in the public consciousness in Ontario in the backlash against the provincial government's do-all-the-wrong-things-but-moreso response to our third wave here])--is pretty ... striking. If you ask me.)

Another hypothesis, which would explain a lot of the difference between American and Canadian public attitudes toward COVID right now: Americans by and large would not take it as given, like Canadians seem to be currently assumed to do, that if every patient who shows up at a hospital is not guaranteed the best care the hospital is normally able to provide, then the hospital is in crisis (and therefore the jurisdiction it serves has arrived at its "worst-case scenario").

I have been meaning to say for months and months that I find it astounding that I had heard literally no one suggest (but then the Ontario government did last week) that we ought to immediately begin expanding ICU capacity so that the system has much greater "surge capacity". This seems an obvious solution to a problem that, at root, hinges on the fact that ICUs in Ontario can--it turns out--handle around a thousand people (not a thousand extra people due to an emergency, a thousand people altogether) at any given time out of a population of nearly fifteen million. Of course, the province wants the hospital system to run efficiently. Slack capacity is inefficient--until you need it, and then lack of slack capacity makes your entire society extremely fucking inefficient.

Anyway, thankfully I can write all this here, because almost no one will read it here, which means that almost no one will take me to be making points I don't mean to make, as opposed to the ones I do mean to make, whatever those might be. [ETA: I saw on twitter a while ago some guy addressing the question why he bothers writing a blog when only a few hundred people read it. One thing you learn about a lot on twitter is how vastly different other people's expectations of and for themselves are from your own. Or at least I do, but then I learn about that pretty much everywhere I look, so.] [ETA 2: if you really want to hear something that might make you think I'm making a point I don't mean to make, let me tell you this: as of a couple of months ago, every resident who had ever tested positive for COVID at my father's old folks home and had subsequently died, including people who had been officially counted as "recovered" from COVID, was counted as a COVID death. I have no idea what exactly that might mean, because I have no idea what the baseline death rate in that place is. But I was ... struck by that.]

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Currently under my porch: 0.6. Currently at Belmont Lake: 1. High there today: 7.9, at midnight. If it is not snowing now it will be soon, which will make tomorrow the second "can you believe it's snowing again!" day of the spring so far. U Waterloo first-time-to-20-degrees contest ended April 8 this year, breaking the string of three straight years it ended in May; that's the earliest it has ended since 2012, when it ended on March 16.
cincinnatus_c: loon (Default)
Today was the 365th day in a row that I have reported my bird sightings on ebird. I think I missed the day before this streak started because I made one last run to the public water tap in Coe Hill. (It would've been interrupted on one of the days I visited my father in the hospital at the end of the summer, but B. was determined to save the streak and took me to Marie Curtis park in Etobicoke as the sun was going down.) At that time we had no firm reason not to believe COVID spread from surfaces, and I thought it might be the end of self-serve gas stations. Now it seems kind of miraculous that there were never any hand-sanitizing rules at gas stations (while we're still doing a great job of stamping on any toehold the flu might get by sanitizing the hell out of other things ... say what you will about the effectiveness of our COVID strategies at dealing with COVID, they've been a resounding success at keeping anyone from getting the flu)--you're still supposed to stick your hand in a plastic bag to use the tap in Coe Hill. On my current streak I have added 45 new species to my lifetime list, bringing me to a total of 104. Today I counted my first phoebe of the year. The robins, vultures, red-winged blackbirds, and maybe-Compton's-tortoiseshell butterflies showed up a few days ago, red-shouldered hawks a bit longer ago than that, crows a bit longer again. Purple finches and red-breasted nuthatches could show up any day now.

Today's bible reading was Nehemaiah, which is a twin of the immediately-preceding book of Ezra; both are about the return of the Jews to Judah, to rebuild the temple, after seventy years of exile in Babylon. Ezra and Nehemaiah are notable for their xenophobia: Ezra concludes with Ezra making Jewish men get rid of their non-Jewish wives, and their children by their non-Jewish wives. Near the end of Nehemaiah it's determined that all "foreigners" are to be excluded from "Israel". Both "foreigner" and "Israel" are funny concepts here. It strikes me again and again how the Israelites are foreigners in their own land--and as part of that, how the Babylonian exile is a return to the place Abraham originally came from. And the "Israel" that "foreigners" are to be excluded from is a people, not a state--Judah is still part of the Babylonian empire; Nehemaiah is its governor at the pleasure of the king of Babylon. It struck me this time around how the relationship between the state and the religion of its people is completely different from what it was in the descriptions of the Israelite kingdoms. In those, there is no daylight between the religion of the king and the religion of the people. If the king goes astray, the people go astray (in such a goes-without-saying way that it seems like the relationship is logical rather than causal). If the king comes back to God, the people come back to God. But foreigners, non-Hebrews, were never excluded from the kingdoms, despite God's pronouncements that they should be, and they always mingled with the Israelite people. In the kingdoms you had a pluralist people in a non-pluralist state; in post-exilic Judah you have a non-pluralist people in a pluralist state.

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Currently under my porch: 7. Currently at Belmont Lake: 1.8, which, that's an awfully big gap there. High there today: 19.3. High of 17.6 at Peterborough airport today, 0.4 45 minutes ago at midnight, huh. Small chance of the UW first-time-to-20-degrees contest ending on Thursday, it looks like.
cincinnatus_c: loon (Default)
Bitching about how slowly vaccines are being rolled out when a large proportion of vulnerable people have already received one of several vaccines that have been proven effective less than a year after everyone knew vaccines would be needed is:
(a) bonkers
(b) very helpful in reinforcing the message that getting vaccinated is desirable
(c) both

You are correct! The answer is (c).

However, (b) is the correct answer to the question "what is getting all demonstratively outraged about people getting vaccinated early by queue-jumping or privilege-wielding or whatever?"

Oh I don't know, do you want to know something about the bible? OK, how's this: yesterday I read the first 1/88 of a bible's worth of Joshua; in there, this thing happens where, after the elaborate magic trick where God makes the walls of Jericho fall down, Joshua gets some spies to go to the city of Ai; they come back and say Ai is practically defenseless, only a small force, two or three thousand guys, is needed to take Ai, so Joshua sends a small force, which is immediately routed. So Joshua is like OH MY GOD WHAT IS HAPPENING, and God says, one of your guys took some stuff from Jericho, which I said not to, find that guy and kill him and then the Israelites will smite everyone again--and though obviously I could just tell you who that guy is, for some reason we will have a dramatic made-for-TV reveal, where you all draw lots to narrow it down further and further until the guilty guy is left. So they do that, the guilty guy draws the last lot, he confesses, they're like OH THANK GOD and find the stuff he took and stone him and his daughters [1] to death and then set them and all his stuff on fire. And so on to smiting Ai: Joshua now sends 30,000 guys, with a clever strategy: most of the guys will act like they're attacking Ai just like before, the Ai guys will think oh those guys again and come and chase them into the countryside when they all run away again, but meanwhile 5000 other Israelite guys will be waiting behind Ai to sneak in and burn it to the ground. And that's what they do, and the guys from Ai come back, too late, and the Israelites kill them all, along with everyone else in the city, which is a total of 12,000 people. So, I don't know, are we not supposed to notice that the whole business of the guy taking the things is not needed at all to explain why the first attack--with a small force and no strategy--failed, while the second--with a force that massively outnumbered the defenders, and a clever strategy--succeeded? How can we possibly not be supposed to notice that?

Speaking of noticing things, after the second-last time I read the bible, Howard Adelman, pointing me at this article here, drew my attention to the fact that through most of Deuteronomy the whole idea that the exodus generation of Israelites is supposed to die out before they can enter the promised land is absent. Reading it again this time, I notice that it is specified so many times in Deuteronomy that it was you, you people here right now, not your fathers, you who came out of Egypt, that (a) I find it kind of, I don't know, demoralizing that I never picked up on that myself before and maybe still wouldn't have now if not for Howard, and (b) this has really got to be a deliberate contradiction of the punishment-for-the-Eschol-spies narrative, doesn't it?

Speaking of spies, another thing that happens early on in Joshua is the Rahab episode: Joshua sends some spies to Jericho, they spend the night at the house of Rahab the harlot, Rahab hides them and misdirects the guys looking for them (who the king sent straight to her house, because, look, we know where guys go when they come to Jericho) into the countryside, and she makes a deal with them not to kill her family when the Israelites smite Jericho. So the Israelites come and smite Jericho and do in fact spare her family, and Rahab is a great hero to the Israelites and "has lived in the midst of Israel to this day." So, according to Joshua 6:25, at the heart of Israel is a treasonous whore. I mean, objectively speaking.

[1] The text specifies his daughters, which I am guessing is out of deference to the fact that, earlier, God had decided that sons were not to be put to death for the sins of their fathers. Cf. Abraham and Isaac on one hand and Jephthah and his daughter on the other.

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Currently under my porch: -2.9. Currently at Belmont Lake: -3.6. High there today: -1.8. The crows came back last week, and the mourning doves started cooing. Tapped my maple trees a couple of days ago. Thought I might have seen a chipmunk out of the corner of my eye last week; today there was one vacuuming up seeds on the porch.
cincinnatus_c: loon (Default)
It has been a long wait, to be sure, for the next lesson from Professor C.'s School of Armchair Economics; good news, it is here! And it is a big one, by which I mean that it is a small one, by which I mean that it is a foundational axiom of Professor C.'s School of Armchair Economics, namely: where a state controls its own fiat currency, there is no functional difference between (1) the state taxing you $x and (2) the state causing $x to come into being to be used for its own purposes while ordering you to take the same amount of your money and set it on fire.

Consequently: where the state controls its own fiat currency, taxation is ultimately not a means by which the state raises funds, but rather a means by which the state attempts to achieve (a) a desired amount of money in circulation, and (b) a desired distribution of money.

And yes, it is Lent, and I am reading the bible again, you are correct! I have decided that what I am doing is the biblegateway.com 90^H^H 88-day program, of which I will do the first 46 days in Lent + the six Sundays of Lententide, and the last 42 days in Advent +, uh, the two weeks before Advent, i.e., starting about a week after the great feast of NaDruWriNi. Maybe I will say some things about it, I don't know, I am real busy, doing whatever in the world it is I am doing.

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Currently under my porch: -0.7. Currently at Belmont Lake: -1.4. High there today: 2.5.
cincinnatus_c: loon (Default)
Today is Georg Trakl's 134th birthday. I know Trakl from Heidegger. When Heidegger writes about poetry, his examples are usually from Hölderlin, but it's the one Trakl poem I've seen him talk about, called "Ein Winterabend" (which I've quoted from here before, but maybe only as a subject line or two, I'm not sure), that grabbed me. It goes like this:

Wenn der Schnee ans Fenster fällt,
Lang die Abendglocke läutet,
Vielen ist der Tisch bereitet
Und das Haus ist wohlbestellt.

Mancher auf der Wanderschaft
Kommt ans Tor auf dunklen Pfaden.
Golden blüht der Baum der Gnaden
Aus der Erde kühlem Saft.

Wanderer tritt still herein;
Schmerz versteinert die Schwelle.
Da erglänzt in reiner Helle
Auf dem Tische Brot und Wein.

You only need to know (even roughly) how the German is pronounced to appreciate the poem's musicality. The translation in the English translation, by Albert Hofstadter, of Heidegger's essay "Language" goes like this:

A Winter Evening

Window with falling snow is arrayed,
Long tolls the vesper bell,
The house is provided well,
The table is for many laid.

Wandering ones, more than a few,
Come to the door on darksome courses.
Golden blooms the tree of graces
Drawing up the earth's cool dew.

Wanderer quietly steps within;
Pain has turned the threshold to stone.
There lie, in limpid brightness shown,
Upon the table bread and wine.

It struck me today that this poem (which I have always associated with Babette's Feast) is a good example on one side of a distinction I think about frequently: between poems that use images to describe things (which this poem does once, fairly incidentally, when it says "pain has turned the threshold to stone"), and poems that describe things that are themselves "images" (which the poem does otherwise and which it basically does). I think about this in connection with Galatians 4:22ff, where Paul says that Hagar and Ishmael on one hand and Sarah and Isaac on the other are allegories for the old and the new covenants with God. Paul doesn't mean (I take it) that the stories in Genesis are to be taken as allegories and don't literally describe things that happened; he means that the people themselves and what literally happened to them are allegories, in the world-historical play authored by God. I like for my poems to treat things in the world in something like this way, although not as "images" or allegories in the sense of "standing for" other things which they themselves are not, but to try to show how they speak of other things as well as themselves, rather than using images to speak of them. Another way of looking at this is that "imagery" is my area of weakness as a poet.

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Currently under my porch: -2.7. Currently at Belmont Lake: -3.3. High there today: 4.7.
cincinnatus_c: loon (Default)
Excavating the table I, uh, work on here, I turned up a tract that came (from something called Bearing Precious Seed) in the mail some months ago. Flipping through it, I find this wonderfully clear explanation of the crudest possible idea of the significance of the crucifixion:

Imagine you had done something so bad a judge sentenced you to die for it as the only way to satisfy justice. From the back of the courtroom a man stands and says, "Your Honour I know they are guilty but I will take their place. I will die FOR them." That is EXACTLY what Jesus did when he died on the cross; He paid YOUR penalty for sin.

I mean ... if you don't think the judge who accepts that is insane, that's a problem.

If you don't notice that this impulse in yourself to be satisfied as long as someone is punished is a problem, that's a problem.

(Of course, I have to start sliding down the rabbit hole, and think: if God is the author of all, then it is most appropriate for God to punish himself. The man in the courtroom knows the guilt is ultimately his; the condemned must bear their guilt only as long as they believe it's their own.)

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Currently under my porch: 3.1. Currently at Belmont Lake: 2. High there today: 3.2.
cincinnatus_c: loon (Default)
So ... the 2016 election was rigged against your guy, but he was so massively popular he won anyway. The 2020 election was rigged so much worse, despite your guy's having had four years as president to do something about it, that he officially lost. That seems to mean your guy is awfully ineffectual.

I mean, what do all those Trumpers (who I see via Rod Dreher) who like him because he's willing to fight as dirty as the Democrats make of this? Do they accept that his claiming that he lost because the Democrats fought dirty and he didn't is fighting dirty? (Just how many Trumpers are committed to some QAnon-style narrative about what he's really up to, for which what he appears to be up to is always only a cover?) How does this mesh with (a disjoint set of?) Trumpers' liking him because he isn't hypocritical, but is straightforwardly and unashamedly an asshole?

Which reminds me, back when the sexual assault allegations against Joe Biden were sort of a thing, I was meaning to write something about how there's an argument to be made that Joe Biden is a better person if he denies the allegations, even if they're true--supposing that he denies them because he is so ashamed of what he did, that what he did is so contrary to his self-image, that he can't admit, even to himself, that he did it. (And I think of Jimmy Gator saying "I don't know" when his wife asks if he touched their daughter. "You should know better!") There is a different kind of argument to be made that it's better for him to deny the allegations, even if they're true, supposing that his admitting to the allegations would destroy him as an ethical role model--i.e., Artie Ziff would have a point, if he wasn't such a dweeb. (This to me is the bottom line about Donald Trump: the president of the United States is possibly the most important ethical role model in the world. You just can't have someone who is openly an ethical monster in that position. Ethical monsters can be president only if they are hypocrites.) I'm not saying that these reasons are persuasive, separately or together (or together with the more obvious, less interesting, utilitarian reason (something like which seems certainly to have motivated the refusal, in many quarters, to take the allegations seriously): the risks of harms being done if Biden effectively disqualified himself from the presidency ethically prohibit him from doing so), only that there is something to them.

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Currently under my porch: 7.1. Currently at Belmont Lake: 7.1, huh. High there today: 11.2. Back on the upswing of the roller coaster. Some snow on the ground a couple of days ago, which seemed like the first snow of the fall, but there was snow on the ground three weeks ago already.

Oh Punchy

Nov. 15th, 2020 12:27 am
cincinnatus_c: loon (Default)
What has become of you Punchy

Punchy has seen better days.

Tomorrow will break a string of 23 consecutive days I spent at least some part of at the cottage, which is the longest since I lived there for a year and a half and presumably the second-longest of my life.

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Currently under my porch: -0.4. Currently at Belmont Lake: -3.9. High today there: 7.2.
cincinnatus_c: loon (Default)
I'm kinda surprised how much worse for wear Punchy is looking. But then I think, a Halloween jack-o-lantern, you only have that burning a couple of hours, and its face is starting to sink in by the time the too-old teenagers show up, isn't it? And Punchy, his brain stem is only like two inches above teh flame, so whaddya expect? That was my one pumpk,in this year. no Hubbard squash: all succumbed to the squash vine borers. So it's a good thing there was no Coe hill Fair this year, eh--kinda like 1994, when the Blue Jays had turned into pumpkins and got a free extra year as defending champs. Anyway, I'm kinda frustrated that I'm so goddamned sleepy. I was dozing in my chair here for half an hour or so before I went out to piss on the property line. I have so much to tell you. Compañero. You make a dark line, and you make a light line, and together, it's a good line. I'm glad we made it back here. See you next year.
cincinnatus_c: loon (Default)
Back in the longest winter I ever spent in this place--this week just past being the longest winter I ever spent here with the water running--I would, wiht the woodstove, get the temperature, in the one main room of the cottage, up to 76 or 78 degrees Fahrenheit, according to the ancient thermostat on the wall that has only ever served as a thermomenter, and then, by the morning, the cats' water might be frozen over.

I dunno

Nov. 7th, 2020 10:47 pm
cincinnatus_c: loon (Default)
maybe I should just complain about Doctor Who

or nostalgize about the second season of Capaldi

or seomthing

(I realized a few months ago that Capaldi is absolutely my favourite Doctor. Fora long time I thought it was a tie between him and Tennant, but it is totally Capaldi. I mean, just for that one season. But ahat one season is everything.)
cincinnatus_c: loon (Default)
On one hand, it's accidental that NaDruWriNi happens right in the rush of duck season, and so the ducks are right there for me to write about. On the other hand, the ducks are the other thing I stayed up those three nights to be here for. (Poem fragment follows in locked entry ... unfortunately many poetry magazines are insanely jealous about this kind of thing, so I gotta be a douchebag about it. Or, well, really only apparently insanely, but actually pretty reasonably, which I'll get to some other time.)
cincinnatus_c: loon (Default)
Well, Raven Conspiracy red wine has gotten me nowhere this time, chum, so it's time to break out the big guns: on to the Writer's Tears, redux, which B. gto me to celebrate the acceptance of the groundhog poem, I think, and which I squirreled away, fittingly enough, for just this contingency. It is as delicuous as I remember. But I think maybe I won't drink 2/3 of the bottle this time.
cincinnatus_c: loon (Default)
Like I said to [personal profile] the_siobhan the other day, NaDruWriNi really has become the fulcrum on which my whole year turns: it is the official Last Night at the Cottage. There may be further nights at the cottage, and this year there will be, but they are unofficial bonus nights. This being the latest possible NaDruWriNi this year, and later than I felt forced to take the water apart last year, I knew it might be a challenge to make it ... but I had no idea how much of a challenge it would be. If I'd known what the weather was going to be like around last weekend a week or two in advance, I almost certainly would've thrown in the towel. The temperature bottomed out around -12 or -13 in Bancroft. I was up literally all night three out of four nights running the water, at times every ten minutes, to keep the plumbing from freezing. The last morning of that, the power went out for a second or so three times, with the temperature well below freezing, the wind blasting the cold under the cottage through the pipes, and I guess at that point over 24 hours to go until the temperature got more than a fraction of a degree above freezing again. I was, let me tell you, reader, SCARED AS FUCK. But the power hung in, the pipes did not freeze solid, nor did the pump (which I had swaddled like a Christ-child experiencing homelessness, to be pleonastic about it), and life went on. The ducks continued to come: oh ducks, oh ducks, oh ducks. (32 goldeneyes today that I counted!) Florida fucked with my brain, as it fucked with yours. My father came out of his 14-day quarantine at the home in which he was, two weeks ago, installed, in the muddle (OK, I have been automatically correcting typos, but that one stays) of COVID. Today it was twenty fucking degrees centigrade around here, and I look around the lake at all the people with their winterized cottages, who weren't here last weekend because it was too fucking cold, and I think you people have no fucking idea.

That may or may not be the half of it.

First up: Raven Conspiracy red wine (pictured to the right of Punchy McPunchface).
cincinnatus_c: loon (Default)


This is Punchy McPunchface. He will be the muse of NaDruWriNi.
cincinnatus_c: loon (Default)
National Drunk Writing Night: November 7 2020

This here weirdo post-clock-change NaDruWriNi is like Halloween fifteen years ago in reverse: dark an hour early. Gotta get started to make up for that extra hour we're not getting in the middle of the night. Time to get fuelling!
cincinnatus_c: loon (Default)
So I woke up yesterday morning, sat up, looked out the window, and I shit you not, across the lake, above the northeastern shore, I saw a line, flying north to south, of seven trumpeter swans.

The last time I saw seven trumpeter swans at Wollaston Lake was the first Tuesday after November 1 (how completely I'd forgotten that 1-in-7 caveat) of November, 2016.

OK, I do not know for an absolute fact that the huge white birds I saw yesterday were trumpeter swans; they were too far away to ID visually, and I couldn't hear them because I was inside and they were across the lake. They could've been mute swans. Maybe they were snow geese. Either way.

Of course, in Canada, we watch this, and we're like, we get this all pretty much done within half an hour of the polls closing, with nothing but pencils and paper and telephones--what is wrong with you people down there? But then I think how, having been a poll worker myself in the last federal election, having seen how that operates, uh ... the quickness and easiness of our electoral process appears to rest on a foundation of faith in the good will and integrity of an army of basically unvetted workers which, in the US, would be absolutely laughable. But I dunno, maybe it actually rests on that there, too, and it really is so incredibly much slower and more cumbersome down there for no good reason at all.

Anyway, the long winter of the last week is over, spring has sprung, and it's about time to head back to the cottage for:

National Drunk Writing Night: November 7 2020

--the "let me tell you what it took to get back here for this!" edition.

On the Democrat's-chance-in-Wyoming that anyone reading this isn't already familiar, [personal profile] the_siobhan's How to NaDruWriNi is here.

See you there!

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Currently under my porch: 15.3. Currently at Belmont Lake: 15.3.
cincinnatus_c: loon (Default)
I just have to note for the record that today was the day we got up in the morning and found the toilet plunger standing in the middle of the bathroom floor, with a mouse trapped under it.

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Currently under my porch: 17.3. Currently at Belmont Lake: 18.9.
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