Their favorite shade of red, your favorite restaurant

Since Bertie is really now a desktop computer that just happens to fold in half, I was off the internet from the time my desk went into a truck until we cleared enough of the dining room table to set him back up. At that time I had intended to post some of the pictures from this afternoon's hour of recovering from the first round of furniture-moving with a book and a bowl of dumplings and sunlight on the back deck, but I also intended to take a short walk and then devote the rest of the night to further packing and instead I half passed out and spent the next forty-five minutes in a semi-conscious state on the bedroom floor where I had toppled after feeling myself begin to blink out and fall while standing at the kitchen sink and wanted to fall onto bags of unsorted clothing, not boxes of glass dishes and knives. It put something of a crimp in the evening. Eventually we sorted and stored the clothes. While we were still decompressing, however, spatch took several pictures of me sunning myself. Later he brought me electrolytes and played me Allan Sherman's "Won't You Come Home, Disraeli?"