BeachcombingChapter 2
When I got back to my cottage, I grabbed a bucket, filled it with seawater, and dumped the clams — no, the quahogs — into it. I stripped off my wet clothes, brushed my teeth, climbed into bed, and buried my embarrassment under my blankets. Sleep was a long time coming. I rose the next morning and I was still a fool. More than anything else in life, I hated feeling like I was an idiot — worse, I hated actually being an idiot like I was the night before. I resolved to do something about it....