F is for Fishies

So last week I took my first trip ever to the Cape* (yes, I’ve been in Boston almost six years and still hadn’t visited), courtesy of my sugar momma roommate’s job. Lying on the beach was wonderful, as was the adorable little library with the small-town-friendly librarian where I worked while I was there (I can’t lie on the beach ALL the time), but my favorite part was the fantastic surprise that J_H had in store for me. I made sure not to look at the directions as we drove through a couple of quaint little towns, and it wasn’t until we pulled into the driveway/parking lot that I saw the sign for…

the Edward Gorey House.

My roommate loves me.

And I love her.

And I love the Gashlycrumb Tinies, whose fates are indicated throughout the house by a box of tacks here, a bottle of lye there, a peach (with just one bite missing) in the kitchen…

And I love the Doubtful Guest, as you can see:

The Doubtful Guest and me

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

*In Boston, it is “the Cape.” It is not “Cape Cod.”

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