2005

It is lunchtime and here we are, both cars in Queen's Park, pulling up in front of the Queen Anne style Victorian doll's house. And it is lovely, the sky blue exterior with the white trim woodwork and fin de sicle curlicues all suggesting a festive summer sky. "You're new home, Glen", says Carl, forcing a smile, for all the stress we are under today. "It is beautiful", he replies with measured perfunctory indifference. Knowing far better than Glen, who has lived the most sheltered existence one could imagine, instead of lecturing him about how fortunate he is, given that many men of his age and lack of means are already sleeping under bridges and crowding homeless shelters, I dutifully hold my tongue. The house smells and looks freshly painted, and the small bits of furniture we found time to purchase do not do the place justice, leaving the rooms looking underfurnished, and all the walls white and starkly naked, but each bedroom imcluding the occasional rooms, seventeen in all, has a bed, and Melissa has had the forethought to bring enough bedding from the mansion to guarantee sweet dreams to everyone staying here tonight. She also took the time with her brother's help to empty the refrigerators, and soon we will be having lunch, our first meal in our, or should I say, in their new home, buffet style, natch, because we also are lacking a table and chairs.