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I've just read that eggs should not be stored in a rack on the back of a fridge door, the exact place where most fridge manufacturers put the egg rack.Before I revamp my fridge, is there any truth to this? My French granny says it is more hygienic to poo in a big hole in the garden, like she did when she was growing up, than it is to go inside. She also said that in olden days, people collected pee and used it to make plants grow better. In your article about housework ("Germ Warfare", 14 January 2017), you said that after washing dishes we should "rinse with plenty of water, preferably hot". Wouldn't it save money if they were rinsed with the cold water that comes directly from the mains?To elaborate is no avail, learn'd and unlearn'd feel that it is so.

Clear and sweet is my soul, and clear and sweet is all that is not my soul.

Lack one lacks both, and the unseen is proved by the seen, Till that becomes unseen and receives proof in its turn.

O I perceive after all so many uttering tongues, And I perceive they do not come from the roofs of mouths for nothing.

I wish I could translate the hints about the dead young men and women, And the hints about old men and mothers, and the offspring taken soon out of their laps.

My tongue, every atom of my blood, form'd from this soil, this air, Born here of parents born here from parents the same, and their parents the same, I, now thirty-seven years old in perfect health begin, Hoping to cease not till death.

Creeds and schools in abeyance, Retiring back a while sufficed at what they are, but never forgotten, I harbor for good or bad, I permit to speak at every hazard, Nature without check with original energy.

Urge and urge and urge, Always the procreant urge of the world.

Out of the dimness opposite equals advance, always substance and increase, always sex, Always a knit of identity, always distinction, always a breed of life.

I am satisfied--I see, dance, laugh, sing; As the hugging and loving bed-fellow sleeps at my side through the night, and withdraws at the peep of the day with stealthy tread, Leaving me baskets cover'd with white towels swelling the house with their plenty, Shall I postpone my acceptation and realization and scream at my eyes, That they turn from gazing after and down the road, And forthwith cipher and show me to a cent, Exactly the value of one and exactly the value of two, and which is ahead?

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