Once again I begin to dig into the hill, about a foot above grade. There is a pick in the pod — how'd I forget about that before? — which makes it...easier to dig out. The excess dirt I leave in front like a stoop, so that it naturally is above flood and rain. The height is just a little above my head, and the depth about seven feet, pretty much straight in.As I dig the hole, I wedge in a few temporary beams here and there to try to keep it from caving in. When the hole is entirely dug out, pack. “Perfect up here.” I said, scanning the horizon before turning my attention back to her. “How are things below?”She looked away.“Look, there’s no use beating around the bush.” She said, “I need to get along with Mike, men have needs. We all have to do our bit, right?”“Of course.” I said, trying to sound easy about it.“Are you jealous?” she asked quietly.“Yes.” I said. “Look Heather, I shouldn’t be here, maybe I shouldn’t even be alive. I’m 57 years old, jealousy is about as important as a sore. More

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