Once upon a time, Mr. Miller’s sister and mother went to Switzerland, Germany, France, and the like.
Mr. Miller begged for them to track down the perfect cuckoo clock for his adoring wife (who had sadly just lost her sister).
Mr. Miller is a very good son and brother.
This I know for sure, because a l l t h e w a y home from the Swiss Alps, through 24 hours of travel, arrived a box at my doorstep with
none other than
the perfect cuckoo clock.
I didn’t think that anything could make my heart feel happy this week.
But now every hour, on the hour, I hear that little cuckoo! cuckoo! cuckoo!
And you know what my heart feels?