seeing all our stuff scattered in the living room-blankets , a few magazines and books , a box of crackers and some cans of soda , old board games , including a half-completed game of scrabble , abandoned when alex began making up words like quozz and yregg-makes me overwhelmingly sad , and reminds me of that single house that survived the blitz , and that cracked and bombed-out street : a place where everybody went on stupidly doing everyday things , right up until the moment of disaster , and afterward everyone said , `` how could they not have known what was coming ? ''