Things have been very out-of-sorts at stately IPB Manor lately. We’re all feeling that sort of on-edge glumness that comes with life not being normal. Some of the non-normalness has been good — we visited Buffalo last week, and Boomer visited Kate the Great the weekend before, and we were on vacation all of last week, doing big yardwork and canning projects. Some of the non-normalness has been stupid weather emergencies and their tragic outcomes — it’s unnerving having snow on the ground in October, was frustratingly life-disrupting to be without power (and internets!) for as long as we were (which, in the grand scheme, was barely that long at all, we know), and our yard is now in shambles.
And some of the non-normalness has been more tragic. We are going to lose the giant, shady maple that used to canopy our entire backyard.
And, most saddening of all, today we had to put down the old man, Mahmoud.
You know what we need tonight? For the Devils to do the job that fans ask most of their teams: to distract us from our worries, to bring some excitement to replace the mundane for a few hours, and to give us something to smile about.
