Ugh, the virus . . . she creeps through the house much like the furry little mouse I spotted in my office last night — eek!
Act 1. The girls have been playing with ponies all morning. Victoria has had a mild respiratory thing going for days, and last night Violet fell apart after play practice, with severe chills and a sore throat. As usual, whatever they are doing in their room is a musical. There was an aria for a lost girl that went something like this:
“If she is alive / may she have a safe trip back to us
If she is dead / may she have a safe trip to heaven.”
No shortage of drama in this house, ever.
[Edited to add: as I type now I hear Victoria saying in a ghostly voice, “I will haunt you . . . forever . . . there are monsters . . . under your bed . . . you are haunted . . . and you’ll soon be dead.” So I think someone has died, and another death is coming soon. What I have done wrong with my children?]
Act 2. Including the drama of the mice — yuck! They are persistent little buggers, tho’ we are poisioning the heck out of them and all evidence shows they are taking the bait. Supposedly they leave the house to die, so you never see evidence of their death. All notions of humane treatment fly out the door when mice move into your sofa. This happened long ago, and the sofa is long gone, but the bitterness remains. Luckily it seems that no one who would ever actually come to my house follows my blog very closely, so I’m only slightly worried about freaking out my Thanksgiving guests (my 8 Thanksgiving guests, plus the 4 of us, for 12 total). The goal for today, apart from my piles of freelance work, is to remove all traces of cardboard boxes from my office. Apparently this attracts them — why was I never told?
Act 3. I have been spending a lot of time at the library this week for volume currently in research stage. (Some interesting topics, including Descartes and Martin Luther — actually, Luther scholars are turning out to be about as dull as you’d imagine!) I noticed a sign announcing an “anatomy memorial service,” that is, a memorial service for the cadavers used by medical students.
It reminded me of a book I read a while back and really liked, so though this recommendation is dated, let me suggest the book Stiff, by Mary Roach. Subtitled, “The Curious Lives of Human Cadavers,” the book pulls off the amazing feat of being facinating, accessible, very funny, and very respectful of all the dead individuals whose bodies are being used in ways you’ve never in considered. I don’t have an extremely strong stomach for medical detail, nor do I have much background in it, but I really enjoyed this book and can recommend it with enthusiasm.
Act 4. The Pony Musical, reprise: From the songs, I have surmised that there are some dead horses haunting their former owner because she fed them green apples and dry grass that was only spray-painted green. (As it turns out this was not their “true owner.”)
Violet: What you did was cruel
Victoria: And you feed us gruel every day and night
Now come on, that is a nice little bit of unplanned rhyming, especially from a 4-year-old.
I could sit here all day and type the lyrics to this semi-opera, as the girls go back and forth rhyming with each other, occasionally singing an important line together with a dramatic crescendo, but I know that’s only for my own enjoyment, and I do need to get on with the de-cardboardification of our house.
We hope to return with some actual content when the creeping death creeps on out of the house.