How's this for strange? Doorbell rings. Limey husbands goes down (we live in a third floor walk up) and comes back with an astounding bouquet of roses. "What did you do to deserve this?" he asks. "And to who?" I look at the card.
It's addressed to the Inauguration Poet, Elizabeth Alexander.
(We've phoned the florist.)
2 comments:
Semi-random, first-name based, literary inauguration roses in a snow storm? (Well, it's snowing here, anyway.) That's got to be kind of fun.
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