Well, the workers finished putting in the new kitchen lighting fixtures (but not the frames and shades) and the new sink (which is set into a temporary counter top) at about 9:30 Saturday evening, and precisely what I most dreaded at the time has, of course, occurred. Our contractor, now erroneously assuming our kitchen was to some degree functional again, has vanished from the face of the earth. He has vanished, leaving all of our groceries and dishes and whatnot scattered all over the house and yard. He has vanished, leaving us high and (thankfully, due to a fine caulking job by our plumber) dry. When I attempted to call his cell phone earlier, I received the following message: "The number you have called is not reachable at this time." I've never gotten a cell phone message like that before. I have absolutely no idea what the hell it even means. Is there some sort of secret dialing code needed of which I'm unaware? Has his mothership left earth orbit?
Our dear housekeeper is due here tomorrow morning after I canceled her visit last week. I'm thinking of canceling again. Frankly, I'm not sure what housework is possible at the moment for her to do. I mean, trying to navigate our living room right now is like walking one of those "paths of power" that Roger Zelazny (I think) used to write about. For all I know, we've been unwittingly casting mystic spells for the past several weeks that have kept Alberto Gonzalez in office, even as they've slowly been turning the Amazon rain forest into a condominium complex for Munchkins.
I'm afraid there is no other choice for me but to go back into hiding under the bed. For the foreseeable future, could you kindly have my take-out dinners (the only kind we're able to eat at home right now) delivered there?
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