So are gyoza and rice. I could survive on these three alone, until I died of scurvy.
While I was walking my bike home during that snow storm last week, a woman came up to me and said, 'Here. This is for you,' and held out a bike light. I told her it wasn't mine but she said 'I picked it up off the street. You can have it.' The rubber loop that holds it to the handlebars got sliced through somehow, and I discover there's no way of mending it short of, maybe, sewing it back together. But as my own rear light fell off the bike somehow a few days later, I've been using that one. It's a great bike light, flashing both white or red at need, and I wouldn't mind an intact version. Today, after two days of 6° weather, the snows of yesterweek receded to reveal not only my vanished straw broom, hiding on the side path, but my rear bike light as well, that didn't in fact fall off on Bloor St. So I am well lit these dark and rainy nights, and a good thing too, given drivers in this town.
My s-i-l wishes to store boxes in my cellar. Fine by me. So yesterday, while I was out, she came and cleared a bunch of empty boxes outof my cellar, flattened them and put them out for recycle, thus accomplishing the task I've avoided for more years than I can remember. Am hoping I can get her to handle the trash company that hopefully will dispose of the ancient refrigerator as well, that I've been avoiding for thirty years.