Quite often Mr. Moore comes home with a guilty grin on his face and I know it’s because he’s “rescued” some trash from the side of the road.
So, I wasn’t surprised when he came home the other day and said he had “picked up” some records.
I was surprised, though, when he brought the records into the house and it required three trips.
Now we are spending a lazy Sunday sorting through our loot and listening to the strangest assortment of records imaginable. So far we have heard a poem about “Sloopy the cat”, “The Banana Death Song”, virtuoso electronic performances of Debussy, sermons and… Well, there are at least 200 records, so lots of other stuff, too.
All in all, it’s not a terrible way to spend this sunny/bitterly cold afternoon.