And the day just kept shining. The traffic lights were all green, my drive-through Diet Coke had just the right ratio of ice and soda, there was a brand new hardcover at Border's I'd read about in People and made a mental note to read, Mister Anderson didn't scream or squeal or even squirm during the entire bookstore trip, there was an UsWeekly in my mailbox with no Speidi on the cover, I left S's house feeling even more like I've found one of those friends you will someday wonder how you got by without, my Fargoan friends checked in and are safe and sound thus far, my cat didn't kill any small creatures, my home remains burglar-free. Happy news just kept popping up in my inbox, too. Jenny, hope tonight's a big success for B! Other good-news-sender-who-shall-remain-nameless, if you're reading, I'm ridiculously excited for you. If you couldn't tell.
I leave you with A, perplexed by the Puffs. You see, he's not yet mastered that thumb and forefinger grasp. So the Puffs end up glued to his hands by a layer of slobber, then he makes this face at me as he wonders where all the Puffs went if not into his mouth: