It’s not quite a white tornado, more of a grayish one, with all the dust and smoke swirling around. I’m busily dusting and cleaning, while E is in the kitchen making chapatis. Fans (a recurring theme lately) are circulating cool rainy air through the dense smog, with an overpowering bouquet of bleach. Spring purge is in the air.
We’re going “native” for Pesach, in the sense that we’re being frugal and resourceful with what’s available to us, and making the most of it, like any respectable peasant, or escaping slave. Even the Skullies have been liberated to another room, safe from the purge-machine. Also, moving preps have begun. It’s beginning to look a lot like Exodus!
We have added incentive to clean, because our friend Rex is coming over tomorrow for Shabbat dinner. To help me finish off some more chametz, I’ll be making BBQ moonshine chicken and fixin’s in his honor. Meanwhile, doing my part for chametz-purging, I’m drinking up the last of my Guinness and other food groups. It’s as close as I come to religion.
Here’s a wistful nose-to-window view of spring happening outside, and my attempts to surround myself with greenery, until such time as we can safely go out in a yard of our own. It won’t be long now.
In case you were wondering, I’m trying to avoid the insanity that is world news these days whenever I can, and keep it real and down-to-earth. If I think too hard, I sink into a funk of despair. I’ll let the trumpsters of the world destroy themselves, as they seem to be doing a fine job of it without me. I still retain a tiny shred of hope that the rule of law and justice can still triumph over chaos and evil.
Accordingly, the aroma of spicy chametz chili is wafting my way, calling unto me. Later…