My mail comes through a slot in my kitchen wall. Retrieving the mail is no more of a task than peeling a carrot. Today a "congratulations on the new house!" note came through the slot from Bobby. She included the whole family. My goodness I love this house.
Later, in the afternoon, Megan (my sister-in-law) came over with her three darling ladies and one dashing son. The younger girls retreated to the den where they made the most of the Rock Band instruments unplugged. Chick (oldest daughter) curled up next to me, while the baby boy crawled on my soft carpet. Meg even felt comfortable enough to help herself to a lemonade in the fridge. My goodness I love this house.
While, at the same time, Amanda my dear friend from London adventures stopped by with sister Annie and their crew of incredible delicious children. Amanda didn't mind my dramatic drapes and Annie worked with my hair (magic!) so that I wouldn't have to part my style. More than once I wished that Amanda lived closer, because I love her and we laugh at the same things. Besides, now I have room for two friends, a sister and seven children to roam about. My goodness I love this house.
A few hours later, Azucar de la Fromage knocked on my front door because her son El Guille wanted to see my new house. He found the laundry chute all shrouded in mystery. This provided hours of entertainment while she fed her baby expensive cheese she had stashed in her purse. I lounged on the couch and imagined the day when my son could toddle around with the others. My goodness I love this house.
Now I am thinking about Chup, up in middle Canada on a business trip. He ordered his first bowl of poutine at an A&W. Though my husband is no longer a certified poutine virgin, I cannot lie, one hasn't had poutine love until they've tasted a bowl from some questionable casse croûte on the banks of the Gatineau river.
My goodness I love poutine.
Almost as much as I miss Chup.
Which is almost equal to how much I love this house.