Life in the Slow Lane

In the frozen food aisle, I was wishing I had thought to measure the dimensions of my freezer before heading out to shop. Like I mentioned before, SOS and I are living in a four bedroom house where the walk-in closet is larger than some rooms I've called home and the master bedroom suite is only slightly smaller than the entire square footage of the condo we hope to buy in the near future. Needless to say, this house has more space than SOS and I know what to do with. Everywhere, that is, but the fridge. We have a mini-fridge, one of those kinds that has an itty-bitty cupboard of a freezer inside. And so that is why I stood with a box of ice cream in my hand, trying to guess whether it was equal or greater than the height of the box. I succumbed. I bought it, I brought it home, I opened the fridge door and the freezer flap, and thunk! it didn't fit. But what sort of home can a house be if it doesn't have ice cream in the freezer? So I carefully folded the cardboard ridge a

There is that famous section of Jane Eyre where on the eve of her first (unsuccessful) wedding, she reminisces about the name written on her luggage tags and her inability to affix them to her luggage as the name does not yet belong to her. While, many pages later, the name Mrs. Rochester does come to belong to her, it should be noted that the name of the book wherein the story is told does not change. I say all this to justify why the title of this blog shall continue to be "Life in the Slow Lane" even though I am now sharing the car pool lane with my beloved S.O.S. (whose name is now mine). And maybe one of these days I will even get around to speaking of the other things I now share with my S.O.S., including the four bedroom, three and a half bathroom, two story house. (There are sixteen stairs leading from the bottom floor to the top which means there are sixteen places to sit in the house, not including the four porcelain ones.)