Deux Ewes

Yes, I know. I promised a write-up of the charting software last week. I want to do it right, is all, and there simply hasn't been time. Every day this week has seen me leave the house at 5 am and not return until about 11 pm. Daddy is tired.

Victorine has also picked this highly inconvenient time to pay us a visit. She's doing wardrobe for a Canadian all-sheep opera company that's on tour with Massenet's Manon Gigot and Poulenc's La Voix Ewe-maine.

The rest of the crew is staying at the Allerton Hotel, but Victorine was asked to vacate her room after she and Dolores drank everything in the minibar, ripped the shirt off the bellhop who was sent to provide refills, and then attempted to do the same to the security guard who responded to the bellhop's desperate cries for help.

Dolores was unapologetic. "If they want to be left alone, they shouldn't wear those hot little uniforms," she said.

"Oui," grunted Victorine. "Les épaulettes, elles me font boum-boum à la coochie-coochie."

Victorine's presence is not helping little Harry, whose nerves were shot after a week of living with Mrs. Teitelbaum and her cat, Tinkles.



Mrs. Teitelbaum sent him home with a special Memory Scrapbook she created to commemorate the visit, but we have to keep it hidden because every time Harry sees it he starts to fray. I've tried to keep him quiet and calm, but Victorine has taken to sneaking up behind him and screeching "MIAOU!" and I'm afraid the twitch in his left eye may become permanent.

If you were coming home after an eighteen-hour day to this, would you have time to do justice to a very cool piece of charting software? Yeah, I didn't think so.

So have a little pity and a little patience. Or Victorine may show up at your house next.