On the way home I stopped at Safeway, but still no small pumpkin pies (small pies, not pies made from small pumpkins.) The clerk in the bakery told me they hadn't run out, but they were simply never delivered. The conspiracy to deprive me of pie goes all the way to the top of the company, I'll bet! There's some guy in their office in Pleasanton who has it in for me— or more likely for everybody who can't afford to shop at those other stores that Safeway executives shop at (I'm looking at you, Whole Foods!) Just get the pies delivered, you toffee-nosed suburbanites!
Ah, well, I guess that's what I get for living out in the sticks.
What I also get for living out in the sticks is a very quiet night. Aside from a dog up the block who was barking at some passing raccoon or maybe one of the feral cats, it's as though everybody in town has already gone to bed. By half past seven there were no lights on at any of the houses on the block. Maybe the neighbors all forgot to turn their clocks back this year. I finally got
Time to go look at the nearly-full moon.
