1001 things to do with junk mail

I didn't get all my three months' worth of junk mail. My neighbor tossed some of it. I tore up the rest in warm water and made dozens of balls. I guess I could make bricks with the stuff, dry them out and coat them with cement and build a wall. I need a wall. But it's the rainy season. I could bury them in the garden as water retainers. They all use soy ink now don't they? I could burn them this winter. Some of them are quite artistic.
I need to start writing again, but I am now so old that my response to just about anything is a yawn. Actually Sara Palin (sorry, spelling's wrong I'm sure but I don't have TV or newspaper access and I don't read blogs) galvanized me and sent my adrenaline tearing around. Who knows, may be she'll be all right. "Look at Reagen" people say. Yeah. Well. And besides, Reagen had charm and knew how to delegate.
Anyway I decided to look for literary subject matter this morning. So. A gracious old Apache man with blazing white hair appeared out of the morning dark to ask me the time. Had he been sitting in the park all night? A paraplegic dragged herself and wheel chair into the laundry pulling an enormous flat bed wagon piled with laundry. She was young and pretty and seemed to be doing the week's washing for some nursing home. A woman at the post office was returning a letter from a California Public Defender that was addressed to her house. The name of the addressee was unknown to her. "He ain't in the barn, I checked" she said.
There are stories there. There are stories everywhere.