Close the door, they're comin' in the window,
Close the window, they're comin' in the door.
So goes the old vaudeville song, and so it feels this morning at Chez Buce, where everything is all up in a heaval: we have painters inside and out and a new pergola going up in the back, and carpets due next week, oy vey.
We do what any sensible person does in this kind of a scrape: we bug out. We leave it all in the hands of our Trusted Man of Business and skip off on a peripatete--ending with a high school commencement Friday night.
I have no idea whether I'll be blogging or not. Maybe so. Maybe not. Anyway, I hope to return next weekend to find that all our problems have magically disappeared. Ta.