It's magic, you know

I have this friend, a woman, who's about my age and who looks a little like me, but I'm talking about a friend here, OK? No one you know, Gentle Reader.

This friend of mine, who may or may not have red hair, and who may or may not be freakishly tall, moved to California from Toronto about... let's see now, I think it was about four months ago. As a matter of fact, it was exactly four months ago today, August 17, when she landed as an immigrant (or, as they refer to us, an alien) in the Golden State. The land of opportunity, where the grass is the color of gold.

That's neither here nor there. The point of the story (and there is one) is this: This woman sold most of her furniture before leaving home. All she brought with her on the moving truck, besides her books and go-go dresses and boots, was her desk and bookshelves, and the orange velour chair that had belonged to her mother. And so, for four months she's been sleeping first on the Aerobed that her tall, handsome friend in San Francisco bought for her, and then on a futon.

On the floor.

For four months.


One day last week this same woman went out for a night on the town with that very same tall, handsome guy named Jack, and when she woke up she had a deadly hangover and her blog had turned purple pink and Christmassy.

"This is truly a magical place!" exclaimed the woman joyfully. "Purple Pink is my favourite colour!"

She skipped all the way home to the South Bay. She smiled at the magic painting outside her door. And when she went inside, this was what she saw:



Whoa, oh, oh it's magic, you know. Never believe it's not so.