I think I may have caught through the keyboard what Meg and Maxminimus had. Some kind of creepy bug that I’d thought I’d weathered the worst of when, yesterday, I found myself forgetting to offer a visiting friend food or drink. An additional warning sign should have been my willingness (enthusiasm, really) to wear my slippers to afternoon carpool. A regretful decision when I realized I needed to go to Office Max for the long-and-oft-promised replacement lunch box. Still, in that neighborhood, I don’t think anyone noticed.
So as I guzzled the cough medicine that Mr. Blandings picked up “for me” (after mentioning the productivity of my cough while he knows that I hate any conversation concerning bodily function of any kind) I tucked myself in knowing that White Walls and I can make a go of it. “There is a place for us!” I declared as the waves crashed against the rocks. Or maybe that was just the ringing in my ears.