The Party’s Over

The Dowbrigade sits in an empty apartment. Norma
Yvone has gone to NYC to visit with family in Flushing and hobnob with
Ecuadorian hoi polloi in town for the US Open. The cats are out chasing
squirrels, who are chasing acorns.

Consequent to Norma’s absence, the apartment is a "chiquero"
as Norma says, a term we assume translates roughly as "pig sty". There
are newspapers strewn across the floors of every room, as though for
a particularly obtuse giant puppy. The kitchen sink seems to be some
sort of educational diorama of the streets of New Orleans. There
are several new stains in the carpet, which fortuitously happens to be
blood red to begin with.

Our mission, should we choose to continue in a state
of matrimony, is to remedy this situation, this afternoon, before the
neatnik gets back from the Apple. ETA, shortly before 8, in time to watch
the final, two-hour special concluding episode to one of those endless
supercilious Spanish-language soap operas she sometimes seems addicted
to despite her advanced degree and otherwise impeccable taste.

Before the clock strikes eight, we must sweep, strip,
wash, dry, fold, clean, vacuum, disinfect, repair and remove. Still
plenty of time. Meanwhile, the Sox are on the tube, and there’s plenty
to blog about in the world at large. A nap may be in order.  Happy
Labor Day, everybody.