This post was brought to you by a cup of coffee and Jolly Rancher candies

We are not hippies. We are not hippies. I say this as I hold the Clorox Clean-Up (Cleaner With Bleach!) in one hand, and a scouring sponge in the other, and make a desperate attempt to banzai clean-up the bathroom. The sink looks like a scene from Silence of the Lambs. Well, almost. I have not invited the housekeeper over in too many weeks that I care to mention, and the illustrious sitar teacher, who has actually studied under Pundit Ravi Shankar, is supposedly on his way. To my apartment. I left him messages on his cell phone to confirm the day's lesson, wondering if he was actually going to come, this was before I realized that he left me two messages the day before, requesting the same confirmation. Well, of course he will actually come. And when he gets here, he will certainly ask to use the bathroom. And the bathroom looks like ... Ugh. This is unacceptable. Then the phone rings.

Me: Hello?
Sitar Teacher ("ST"): Hello? Ms. LaMai?
Me: Yes?
ST: Yes? It is ST. I am so very sorry to have missed your voicemail messages.
Me: Yes? That's okay? [Please say you can't come Please say you can't come Please say you forgot Please say your wife wants you to take her to the park, to a show, spice shopping, anything, Please say you can't come]
ST: Well, again, I am so very sorry to have missed your three messages.
Me: That's okay?
ST: And I am so very sorry.
Me: Oh? Why?
ST: Because I am in [STATIC] which is upstate, you see, and right now it is impractical for me to get to the City...

And thus, that is how I was saved from way too much bathroom cleaning for my own good. Not to mention kitchen cleaning, bedroom cleaning, and living room cleaning. And closet organization. And come to think of it, the windows need help, too.

Today A woke up quite late, but not before declaring out loud in his sleep, "But where do the BODIES come from in THE BODIES EXHIBIT??!!!!!" This kid reads way too much of my writing.

Also later today, over math, A announced he wanted to study the entire Saxon Algebra I through summer, and that I should buy the next level Saxon math book. Now.

And later later today, I took a copyediting course, because I have to pay for A's b-m, which is going to cost and it is this summer, which means I need to take up a copyediting job that will pay not a lot, but it will pay, and so tonight I sat through the course in a building where a man in a next room said "Hello? Hello? Hello?" a lot, apparently on the phone, his "Hellos" being emphasized by the POW POW POW of the gunshots heard one floor below, because the gun range was there, yes, right off Fifth Avenue in Manhattan, the POW POW POWS which were somewhat more of a relief than the much louder THUMP THUMP THUMP that we copyediting students heard which followed the POW POW POWS. What is that? I asked. THUMP THUMP THUMP. A nightclub? The copyediting instructor turned red and she said, "Um, it's the strip joint next door."

And finally, this evening, A excitedly gave me the good news that his crew team got to finally row. On the water. It was 32F today.

He wore wool.

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