I'm sure Gran would let me come. I'd invite you to visit, too, but I'm afraid it wouldn't be nearly as much fun. I mean, Gran means well, and I'm sure she'd want to welcome my friends, but she's sort of, uh, bossy about how she likes things at home. Not too much noise you know, and she fusses a lot about running or too much noise or about things she's afraid could ruin the furniture.
It's the kind of house where you always feel you sort have to tiptoe around. Pots of African violets everywhere, all the little lace doily what-do-you-call 'em on the backs of the chairs and sofas. Um, antimacassars. That sort of thing.
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Date: 2009-06-03 11:45 pm (UTC)It's the kind of house where you always feel you sort have to tiptoe around. Pots of African violets everywhere, all the little lace doily
what-do-you-call 'em on the backs of the chairs and sofas. Um, antimacassars. That sort of thing.