Early this morning my mother sends me an email about our Belgian cousin's second disastrous marriage and her upcoming divorce, and how her second creepy husband scheduled their day in court on the exact day my cousin needs to take her mentally disabled brother into the hospital for major surgery and how her younger daughter will have to postpone college and keep modeling and losing weight because her father, creepy philandering husband #1, refuses to pay, but the real point of the email is that my cousin would like some more of that wonderful Press’n’Seal® I gave her last summer and would I please buy some and send it to my mother and then she will send it to Belgium.
(Of course I could send it directly to Belgium, or my mother could buy it at her local supermarket and send it, but that is not how we do things. That is not the Walloon way.)
In the best of times, in the worst of times, even in Wallonia, we still have to wrap up the leftovers.
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