Navigating the inherited lockers sends me on a labyrinthine diagonal through the building. Left my shirt somewhere along the way. The showers seem impossible to locate. Many of the lockers are doorless, and there's an improbable amount of foodstuffs stashed in a great many, stymying the teaching staff's annual inspection. (Some contemplate pranking the students.) Overhear a coach & a principal musing over the probability of vermin. "Field mice are hard to avoid, if they're native to a region," I put in, waking Sig.
"Hmm?" murmurs my sick husband. "Nothing. Just talking in my sleep," I reply, rising to write it down.
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