Mulch season.
It's mulch season. Before the discovery of mulch, somehow trees and plants grew in soil without the aid of shredded trees bathed in fertilizer. I don't know how, but legend has it. Meanwhile, my development stinks like a compost heap. The landscapers were out all day today, spreading the junk everywhere. For some reason, they chose to pile it in the middle of our entrance-way. I would have complained, but most of them don't speak English. Besides, I think they like the smell. Once I managed to make my way through a 10-foot pile of shredded fertilized trees, I took my auto to have its oil changed. I've been using synthetic motor oil because I'm told it's better for the engine, and I'd like to own the car beyond the time I'll be paying for it. So I asked the guy at the oil change place, "You recommend changing the oil every 3,000 miles, but isn't the synthetic stuff good for longer than that?" He replied, "It is, but the filters are...