Not sure what I find more amusing here in the UK; the switch for the bathroom extractor fan above the doorframe outside of the bathroom, the way I have to remember to look left when I cross the street and bolt like a maniac to get to the other side, how a sales clerk always calls me “love” or “lovie”, the alarm on Rick’s cell phone that says, “It’s seven o’clock; time to get up,” with a British accent, or our combined washer dryer tucked underneath our kitchen cabinets that spun at helicopter speeds for an hour and a half and the clothes came out damp and the colours bled. So much for Rick’s favourite Hawaiian shirt. Looks like I got my Canadian Ass into hotwater.
