Well, it’s T minus 12 till our departure to London, armed with four cats, a nine-year-old child and god knows how many books. Of course this would be happening at Christmas time, so we’ve also got to contend with a Christmas tree in the Jay Street apartment, shedding thousands of needles for the movers doubtless to pack up and take with them (I remember receiving our kitchen garbage neatly packaged up when we arrived in New York from our last London sojourn; these men mean it when they say you leave it, we pack it). And I just found out that Mailboxes, Etc. sent my parents’ presents to Cathy Sussman in Minneapolis and vice versa. Be grateful for small miracles I guess, that they at least exchanged them and didn’t send them each to random people in Montana.
Avery informed me this morning that she feels “quite small.” “Well, how do you normally feel?” I asked. “The size of a normal Avery, but now I feel quite small and out of control.” Welcome to our world.
More when we have news…
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