Sunday morning began with rustling in the kitchen. One of the roommates, I’m not sure who, got it in her mind to make breakfast for everyone. So, everyone (sans L) was in the kitchen, messing about and making French toast. At first, I felt like rising out of my sleeping bag and making my presence known, but soon decided against it. There I was, all snug and warm on the couch, while they were in the kitchen, with their girlish giggles blending with the music and a barrage of wonderful smells tickling my nose. It was one of those moments that was just absolutely perfect, and I wanted to stay all snug and warm on the couch savoring every moment in my half-awake state. With the snow gently falling outside, one of the women had the inspiration to put Bing Crosby’s White Christmas in the stereo, which soon led to a discussion on how Bing Crosby butchers every song he sings. How dare they say that! Bing Crosby was the Backstreet Boys of his time, for crying out loud. I had half a mind to get up and give them a history lesson, but it would’ve ruined all the snugness and savouriness.
Continue reading L & I — Day 4: The Voyage Home →