How Lucky Am I?

This was me today. I'm the little one.

Okay, maybe I'm lying a little bit. Maybe that picture wasn't exactly taken today. But the point is, I work here:

And today, I did this:

My Lady had me elfing around, dropping off presents for her friendly neighborhood businesspeople all over Beacon Hill.

That is not Chuck (TFT) in that picture. That's not today, either. None of these are. I don't have a camera, remember? But just across the street from Looks-Like-Chuck up there, just outside the shot, to the left of Hooded Sweatshirt Guy -- that would be John Kerry's house. The John Kerry. Coulda-been-President John Kerry. Shoulda-been-President John Kerry. The Junior Senator from Massachusetts. It isn't small. The house, that is. I didn't go in there today, but I have done. My Lady likes to write letters to her Senators and she has a theory that her thoughts will get more personal attention if she sends them to the house -- their house, that is, not The House. That would be stupid, seeing as how they're Senators and everything. (I have exactly the opposite theory, by the way, about the whole send-it-where-they-live thing, but I don't argue with My Lady.) I've never been dispatched to Hyannisport, but she did have me hand-deliver a missive up to Louisburg Square one afternoon, and the lower-case lady who opened the door asked me if I wouldn't step inside. This was before he ran for president. Before 9-11. And before I took to raving like a lunatic. It is not small in there. Just goes to show what a little bit of ketchup can do for a hot dog.

I don't know what that meant.

This is where I work.

How lucky am I?