I have four
pairs. They can't be sent to the laundry. I have rotated them as
scientifically as my ability permits. I have rigged up a chart on
the marble top of the table whereon the radio sets, and I figure
a day spent at the farm sprouting and grubbing bushes, etc., is
equal to from two to two and a half days at the Bank. But I find
that won't do. I have to make it either two or three days, one or
the other. It would be silly to sit at the Bank until noon of the
second day, come home and change socks, and then go back for the
remainder of that second day .. . .
"Little" Ernest's 80 acres is sold and gone and I have the money
to send him, perhaps tomorrow. He got a rather good price for the
land--$6,000 cash. That is not to be sneezed at. . .
Both Tom Walden and Mr. Ferguson are going to be able to see,
although both are still in the Hospital of course. I shall try to
go out tonight to see what they look like now.
I eat my suppers at Mrs. Bridges'. If it weren't for those meals,
I don't believe I could make it. These restaurants are terrible,
and my teeth are worse than that. . .
Footser's last year's room mate--the Pulliam girl--is going to
get married some time this month.
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