Miranda is tucked up in her fort in a corner of the living room here, watching "hockey ball" (as she calls it, even though she seemed to understand when we explained that the little black disk is not a ball) on TV last night. She was initially a little worried about how the Canucks would do vs. the Canadiens, especially when she saw the bruise on Roberto Luongo's neck. Thank goodness, our team won handily and Miranda was happily asleep by the time I got home from my reading group meeting at Carmen's.
This month's book for our club was Andrea Levy's "Small Island" (the story of post WWII Jamaican immigrants to England)--very engaging but a very long book...although Carmen's delicious fruitcake and some red wine (and I overindulged in both, feeling a yuletide nostalgia) did much to sustain the discussion! Indeed, only some very strong coffee persuaded me to get out of bed this morning--much less ambitious than Steve, who went over to the mainland today with the truck (but alas no wallet--it was left here inadvertently--and no lunch) to get the last of our stuff out of storage.
Whatever it all is (and we haven't yet had the courage to look into any of the vaguely-labelled boxes ["photos/bath/winter"?!]), we've been living without it for a year now...Maybe it'll be just like Christmas all over again, as we open each box and exclaim, "What the ^%#@!???"
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