Last Wednesday marked a very momentous occasion in our house: we had our annual volunteer shift for my CSA share. CSA being the very utopian and nice-in-theory thing where you pay money up front and get produce, eggs, flowers, sometimes meat and cheese, from local farms. And like all utopian enterprises, there’s an obligatory volunteer shift.
I ended up actually enjoying my shift last year, if for no other reason than it let me pretend for those few dozen trips carrying pallets of root vegetables that I was actually part of something, like I was some sort of adorably ineffective farmhand who kept her complaints to herself and smiled for the shareholders.
Logan asked what people had in their wallets. This is the result.