The next day, things always looks better. I thought it was as bad as I expected; Brenda thought it could have been worse. In any case, the move is done and Tiffany is on her way home. When I talked to her at 6, she was laughing and mopping the floor, and looking forward to whatever I had cooked for dinner. Let's hope it's a harbinger of things to come.
Peter was moved in about an hour. Bob said he felt guilty that it was so easy and thought they should go back and help some of the roommates get their junk moved. Regis and I had the easy job...we watched Ella.
We came home and sat in the yard watching the birds and having a margarita. I think there's a reason why there are professional bartenders. These were not the best margaritas I have ever had. The dinner however, was delicious. I made a bourbon marinade for chicken legs, roasted red potatoes, garlic bread, and crab stuffed portabella mushrooms. We should have taken pictures.
There is some insane reason we don't win the lottery. It's just not right. Regis and I would make such good rich people. We probably wouldn't even move but we would quit our jobs. In a minute. So fast it would make your head spin.