A grenade? A boxing glove? No, we're at the storage unit in Glendale, waiting for some trusty movers (again! but these are local ones with a van and at least one rock band between them) coming to take away half the things from our storage unit and bring them back here. There are still a lot of boxes of books there ... and to think that I did such a major cull back in NJ. I was taking a photo of the soulless hallway, and Alice stuck out her hand with one of the wooden balls that form the feet of the sofa that's now in my study. I am extremely attached to this sofa. I bought it in 1985 or 6, and it's actually a not-too-uncomfortable sofa bed, in a grey-green color, from Habitat, and is remarkably unstylish, and bears the claw-ravage marks of several generations of cats - and I'd miss it dreadfully if I did the sensible thing and decided that the time had come to wave goodbye to it. It's not even the world's most comfortable sofa. But it's my sofa, and it gives me a whole lot of pleasure to have a study, at last, that's big enough for it, and to have it (and other old dear pieces of furniture) keeping me company.
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