This continued repos stuff is absolutely degrading. We won't be good for anything after the war. We do nothing except loaf, loaf, loaf all day long and perhaps once a week go to Vadenay or St. Hilare, for a few malade calls. Just for fun I have written an outline of all I did today, dividing it up according to hours. Here it is:
7:30—Breakfast gong, an old shell case, sounds and we pile out of our cars to the "salle à manger" for oatmeal and prune confiture.
8:00—All is well. Breakfast is now over and the poker crowd have started the day's game. The bridge fiends are playing behind Tenney's car and two fellows are shooting craps. Gilmore and I are matching pennies and Stanley is trying to feed a raw egg to our new mascot, a young red fox.
9:00—It is getting warmer. I have gone to my car and started a letter home.
9:15—It is much too hot to write. I have given up my letter for a book in French on artillery.
9:30—Artillery is dull, especially in French. I am now reading one of Ring Lardner's latest in the Saturday Evening Post.
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