"I'M TAKING YOU TO THE PRODUCE AUCTION," said The Yard Man to me this morning. "I've got to pick up some pallets and boxes."
I readily acquiesced, as one is wont to do when already a captive passenger. We were riding in The Yard Man's truck, and had just dropped off at the garage the car with the defective battery.
Bidding had ended when we arrived on location. Most of the produce, in fact, had been carted away. But there was enough edible merchandise lingering in the area to impress upon me what a monumental process it is to feed the human species.
I don't know how it is with you, Reader Dear, but I'm rather relieved that in this part of the country where I live, they don't have to roll far.