Beer for Bob

We are now, for all practical purposes, fully moved. The last remnants of my existence on McLean Street have ben expunged–well, I packed boxes but Bob sponged it into ex-ness.

Meanwhile, here at the house, Bob has been playing Mr. Contractor, which has gotten us several “refreshed” walls and both planned and accidental new plumbing.

Bob couldn’t decide whether he wanted a beer so, on the theory that if beer is here it can had whereas if it’s not, it can’t (on a Sunday evening), I picked up a…well, a box. That seems to be how a six-pack of bottles is packed. I don’t mean those cereal-box-cardboard sleeves but a full-on corrugated box, with just one handle by which to dandle it on the walk home. I kept expecting that bit of cardboard to rip and the box to smash on the sidewalk, oh me of little faith. But it didn’t. I now know just a bit more about the mechanics of cardboard…and Bob has beer, should he decide he wants it.


2 Responses to “Beer for Bob”

  1. carole Says:

    P’haps a photo of said box of beer?

  2. halifaxing Says:

    Well, if I had thought to take one, but instead I took the box apart to get it into the morning recycle pick-up. Next box, I promise…..

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