I took the long way back to the city tonight. I drove with the windows down, and the music up, and with a speed that - while respectable - was still a little quick for the law. But this therapeutic drive only happened after I did something I probably shouldn't have. I drove past my old farm. Big mistake. The people that own it now are trying to sell it. They've sold the farm house, and I guess they're trying to sell the land and buildings separately - who knows. But it looked like hell. I slowed down staring slack jawed at what used to be the heifer barn. Now it's just a shell that I could see through to the other side. There are pieces of siding falling off the barn. The doors to the machinery shed haven't been shut in years and it looks like a yawning mouth with black, rotting teeth. Machinery and tires left in the field where they were dropped, and plastic round bale wrap anchored to clods of earth because it's been there so long it has become part of the landscape. It made me so angry I wanted to drive in there and shake him. But he's not the one I'm really mad at, is he?