Hermit's

I have been staring at this page, blank for at least five minutes. Nothing at all interesting has happened. The house is quiet, no kids, no hubby, the dogs are on the couch farting away. All I can think of is spring. I can't wait to get outside without having to put on a huge jacket and the uber boots. The long johns won't be shed until June. I have a pair for every day of the week. There was a man down in the Delaware area who was a hermit. He had a property filled with cars, and junk. He was rarely ever seen. He lived in an old farm house from what I can remember. Somehow, although he was (as I have said), never seen, someone found him dead. (It must have been quite a while before they found him). When the body was removed, and the coroner was examining the corpse, they found that the hermit's leg hair had grown up through his long johns. Like newly seeded grass, it just sprung up through the tiny perforations in his LJ's. Isn't that amazing? He never removed them. It reminds me of the story, of the man living in the Goodwill Box on Oxford Street in London. He would pop his head out from time to time. I had a friend in highschool, who was homeless. No family would take him in, so he lived in the sewers. One time he came over to my house, and he smelled so bad that I used a can of Lysol on him before he could enter. Poor old James. He had a really good mohawk that he pasted up with epoxy or contact cement. Looking through year books, most of the people that we knew are either dead, or living the "high life" in British Columbia. (Last we heard anyhow). Memories.