As I type this, the air outside is redolent with the smell of sulphur from the fireworks. All night long - for the past three nights, actually - we've gone to bed with the intermittent popping noises of Victoria Day celebrations. The weekend was not all I hoped it would be. Mr Earth was in rehearsal two out of the three days - his show opens this week. Poor service at our anniversary dinner on Friday, coupled with a touch of food poisoning, cast a pall on the holiday. Between the tired and the sick, I am left with few words. We did have a few good moments though:
We played in the park.
We stopped and smelled the flowers.
We checked out the fountain.
We learned to catch a frisbee. (Ok, not really, but we did throw it around a bit.)
Back to my crackers and gingerale. Goodnight.