5.5 weeks and counting!

This was actually from two weeks ago, but it wandered off into cyber-eternity and was just found:
It's 11:30pm on a Friday night, and despite having a myriad of "moving to Liverpool" things to check off on my everpresent Things to Do list, I went for dinner and then disco bowling. Yes, disco and bowling...in the same sentence. Don't tell. My primary objection to bowling began when I realized that I was wearing sandals. Given that this isn't Woodstock, you can infer from this that I didn't have any socks on.I enjoy the actual act of going bowling - it's the concept of wearing shoes that hordes of others have worn before me that weirds me out a bit. And without socks - WELL! That wasn't even an option. And so began what was to be, in my mind, an epic quest to find socks in New Westminster on a Friday night. I'd built it up to be this holy grail in my mind, so imagine how anti-climactic it was to discover that the bowling alley sold them in a vending machine for $3 a pair!They went beautifully with my sandals after all - those Woodstock folks sure do know their fashion!