For once the highway was backed up as an overcrowded prison sewer in the opposite direction I was travelling home from the fucking mill after work. It was Anne Murray's birthday and I did not want to miss out any of the evening I had prepared for us to share.
There was beer, lobster, cake and Anne Murray records playing on the stereo. The sun was shining and breeze, gentle as a snowbird's song, was caressing the world as if the world thought it necessary to show a little appreciation for how she made this world a wee bit less frightful a place while she was singing for us.
You have noticed how much more evil the world has become since she retired from the stage haven't you?