It’s been awhile since I blogged about a postcard message. This one makes me very happy I didn’t live around the turn of the century.
“My Dear Grandpa & Grandma. How are you. we are all well. Papa killed by pigon, and I pulled one of my teeth monday morning. Come over when you can. From Floyd.
We haven’t heard from Myers, so I am going to white wash the bedroom and maybe the kitchen. This week I have the carpets all up. Pearl.“
I absolutely hate housework! Major Yuk. Having to put up all the carpets (translation, clean them) constitutes housework. Thank God for today’s carpet cleaning services.
Wonder why Papa killed his son’s pigeon?
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