o’ Mice an’ Men,
Gang aft agley…
Any opportunity to quote and link to one of my favorite poems, “Of Mice and Men” by Robert Burns, can’t be all bad (I’m in a hurry and couldn’t find an annotated version that explains all those strange and archaic Scottish words, so that one will have to do for now).
I’m in NY, having driving down yesterday—pedal to the metal—to attend a friend’s surprise birthday party last evening. The get-together was exceedingly enjoyable and well worth the trip—both the food and the company of people I grew up with, most of whom I haven’t seen for decades. And no, we don’t look a bit older. No way.
So, what’s my beef? Today as I was writing my post and planning a visit to my mother this afternoon, and a visit with more friends this evening, I was pressed into service to help the NY-dwelling college-attending daughter of another good friend of mine deal with the convoluted bureaucratic maze of passport expediting. This involves several trips to various Byzantine offices, and must be accomplished before 3 PM, so I’m off to do it. My presence is necessary as an adult who can vouch that she is indeed who she says she is.
The post must wait for now; perhaps I’ll finish it towards this evening.
But one thing to be grateful for—at least I’m not dealing with the Motor Vehicle Bureau.
