As I got to my car on Thanksgiving Day, I saw a paper clipped under my windshield-wiper, on the passenger side. I walked around the car to look at it and noticed that the front passenger window was missing. The paper on the windshield was a half-envelope, on which was written, "call [the company that does our recycling] about window [phone number] sorry".

I was planning to drive down to Sandwich. My roommate's parents live there, in a house with a bookstore attached. I briefly considered whether or not to call and bail out, but quickly realized it wouldn't help anything (and that my car would be at least as safe in Sandwich as in Cambridge), so I cleared the window-fragments from the driver's seat and headed off.

I don't feel like finishing this, at least right now, so I'll just add that we ate at my roommate's aunt's place, and I came back Friday with about six extra paperbacks (two bought; the rest they were trying to get rid of). The window and the football results were the only disappointments.

"Well, maybe my children like running wild in the street, did that ever occur to you?"