While working 'round the house this morning, I was seated deep in thought when I heard the doorbell ring. A lycra-clad figure in dark glasses waved up at me: lo and behold, Matt had ridden around the south part of the city and stopped in on his way back home. We sat out on the stoop and watched the neighbourhood roll past, this lazy, unseasonably warm and sunny Sunday. When Mark and Jeremy from the café walked past, I started: was it already past one? Indeed.
I dashed off to the furniture shop down the street, mindful that I absolutely had to get something in the way of a cosy guest bed before I split town on Weds. The man behind the counter was basking in the sunshine streaming through the shop windows.
Did he have such-and-such model in stock? Indeed. And could he deliver today? Happily. Don't you charge for delivery, I asked, pointing to the sign on the wall. No, he replied; you're just up the street.
As I was signing the paperwork, he nodded towards the new Indian restaurant across the street.
Have you tried that place?
No, but I'm going there tomorrow. I'm looking forward t
When he delivered the boxes and mattress, he was still cheery and smiling. Have a good time at Naan'n'Chutney tomorrow!