Little Debbie Living Tax Free

Occasionally my internal clock functions better than the digital devices. This was one of those mornings. The storms must have knocked out power in the middle of the night. I slept like a rock until, well until, I didn't anymore. I woke us up on time to head up north of the river, Gore Street in East Cambridge to be precise, where we greeted our dear friend Deb who was carrying bagels in one hand and coffee in the other. Fuel for weekend-warrior furniture movers, a hobby I've been focusing on recently. Deb's outta town, off to New Hampshire as of today, which is a big deal for us since she was one of the first people Melissa met when she moved to Boston. They lived together and have remained tight for the past nine years. She's moving for a very good reason--it's always a joy when your friends find love in the right places. Mike's a stand up dude, and a stellar snowboarder with an interest like me in carving and riding fast, so they're certain to be getting regular calls from me come wintertime to hang out in the White Mtns.