A child of the Great Depression, Grandma would never throw away a dishtowel until it had more holes than thread.
When the house was empty she went from room to room. Ripping sheets from beds and tearing at them and kicking over nightstands and busting mirrors.
For I did hem a tregetry, But thereof yeve I a little tale
Beetles crunched beneath the men's heavy boots as they worked.
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