Return of the Damp Rodent
I had barely looked up from my malfunctioning e-mail when I got a call from Brennan Bagdan, who was our prior houseguest Noah’s best friend in Edmundton Alberta. “I’m at the bust station.” I thought I heard him say. Half-clothed, talking into the speaker phone, I was trying to get out the door for a breast MRI at 10 a.m. Everything in range was being recruited to remind me of this. I am the sort of person who can easily space out a long-reserved doctor’s appointment, simply because the notation on the calendar has, despite its size, become ‘invisible’ by its very familiarity. See post below for the full story.