For one thing, Coney had been alone for a good chunk of the day and needed some companionship. Plus, Monkey was tired out from being in a tunnel all day (I'll 'splain in a sec) and I'd had loud nights o' rock music twice already this week, and my ears needed a rest. So we gave the tickets to the girls next door and listened to, appositely, Nextdoorland while cleaning the house.
If you'd told me five years ago that I would pass up an opportunity to see the Soft Boys in exchange for cleaning the house, I'd have told you you were craaaaazy--and yet it was a completely satisfying exchange.
As for the tunnel, the Monkster's band played in an abandoned subway tunnel as the fore-and-aft entertainment for a neat little tour conducted by the man who discovered it. Fred and I went, and had a great time. It would be cool to hide out down there in the event of a tornado, bombing or other disaster.
Have started reading The Grand Complication by Allen Kurzweil. It's as learned and dorky and full of improbable dialogue as a Robertson Davies novel, and despite all that, I am enjoying it (and I love R.D., too).
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