I’m watching Manor House.
Manor House Fact: footmen were paid according to their hight. The taller you were, the more you got paid.
One of the maids just complained that she can’t just “Pop into town and have a bevvy” whenever she wants. That’s rough. When I was in Mexico I often complained of not being able to have a bevvy whenever I wanted.
I participated in an activity with Maren this afternoon that shall not be named in this post. Life is always an adventure with Maren. We had finished with our activity and had decided that we needed a Jamba juice. We parked downtown and started walking. Suddenly Maren stopped on the sidewalk and said, “do you want something to blog about?”
You just can’t pass that up, so I said yes. She then pushed in an unmarked door in the side of a building and said, “come on!”
We stumbled into a tiny entry way with an elevator. We got in and she said, “I’m warning you, it smells like fish” It did. She was right.
We stopped a couple of floors down and stepped out to discover a complicated series of complex hallways with numbered doors ever few feet. It was freezing cold and there were rat traps in the corners. Maren took off with a mostly confident, “I think this is the way” and I had no choice but to follow her. After a few false turns, we pushed through and unmarked door and came tumbling out into a mall. I turned around and saw that the door we came out of said, “authorized personnel only”. Dude. Maren rocks. We walked past Banana Republic, did a quick lap through Eddie Bauer and ended up at our destination.