(fecal matters in street talk; you might find it offensive)
Previously on this blog, in my 9/1 posting “Send in the rabbits”:
Made it back to my apartment, at which point the enema kicked in and I pretty much exploded with shit, everywhere, in piles. Vast amounts of cleaning up to do, and I still have to get someone in to scrub my workroom carpeting, which is beyond my (dis)abilities.
Then e-mail exchanges with Elizabeth Daingerfield Zwicky today (9/3):
— AMZ > EDZ: Total astonishment, with enormous thanks to you (who are doing so many things for me): when I got up, at 3:18 am, the workroom carpet had been scrubbed clean. Somehow, during the night, while I slept. Clean again!
How did you manage this magic?
— EDZ > AMZ: We just asked at the desk if they could send someone. All the rest was the Avant [AZ: the community I’m living in].
— AMZ > EDZ: Wow. Somehow the elves worked their magic in the dead of night, and even though I’m up every hour or so to whizz, I heard and saw nothing.
Then I woke this morning to Beethoven’s Spring Sonata for Violin. Fabulously joyous Beethoven.
Now trying to figure out how to thank the elves.
I want their (full) names, recognizing them as competent people with serious lives, not just servants on call; and a way to send them my gratitude and my admiration for a job well done. I will also be able to say good things about them to their supervisor.
… And behind all of that is a strain of egalitarianism with motley sources — in Switzerland, the words of Christ, idealistic Judaism (repairing the world), and Quakerism, plus my own experience of having for many years been staff, before I became the sort of person who had staff. About which I’ll post separately.
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