2003-12-07
After the storm, without a shovel, around the yard. I called all the old ladies I knew that may have troubles and each one of them had been mysteriously dug out by strangers. I get the news about pacemakers and recollections of Quebec winters and double knitted tukes and cheek rubbing. We are all to shy to initiate the first call but I paced around and swallowed. This is our last weekend with everything in place and out of boxes.
