Fresh produce was inspected and selected, antibiotic-free poultry was located, several varieties of seafood were chosen, fresh herbs were obtained, a bottle or two of adequate wine was set aside, cheeses were put into cold storage, and the usual sundries were restocked: Olive oil over the stove; eggs, milk and heavy cream (organic), on the porch; many bottles of inexpensive beer in the icebox; and then flour, matzoh, couscous, calrose rice, beans of all descriptions, breadcrumbs, and dried pasta in many varieties in the cupboard.

There was a cleansing.

Sinks were bleached; bathroom fixtures polished; smudges wiped from doors and doorframes; the interior of the antique auto was cleared of debris, dirty linens were collected, sorted, and whisked off to the rock-and-roll laundromat for purification; Woolite was deployed against more expensive garments; Sofas were excavated, sandblasted, hoovered, and reassembled; wood floors were swept and mopped, rugs beaten and soaked, tile scrubbed on hand and knee; The cat-box was not only changed, but washed as well; curiosities were culled from the medicine cabinet and properly disposed of; books, set aside halfway through, were reshelved; newspaper was recycled; parking tickets and unpaid bills were arranged prettily on the coffee-table; pillows were fluffed; musical instruments were polished; cat-hair was removed from curtains; and a plant was dusted.

There was a frenzy of cooking.

Garlic was minced; oil infused with herbs; a chicken was disassembled (to the accompaniment of loud protest from the cat); stock simmered for ten hours; leeks were chopped, washed, and sauteed in white wine; a chowder was calculated and assembled; another (inadequate) attempt was made to reproduce La Salsa de Pollo de la Mamacita de Silvio; bread was seasoned and toasted; Gorgonzola was combined with romaine; white sauce was reduced and seasoned; a double dashi was allowed to cool overnight; eggs were broken; tomatoes diced; and saltine crackers, curiously, made frequent appearance.

The nest was feathered.

Artwork was completed or repaired; pictures were framed, hung, and rearranged; blankets were assigned to sofas; the cat was given a pretty ribbon and a sour expression; the selection of music was refined; flowers were set out on tables; lighting was adjusted; rooms were ventilated; candles were lit and snuffed; and the computing-machine was de-electrified, its silence bringing the soft sound of rain against the windows into the foreground.

But enough of this. I grow weary, for I find the retelling of these sordid events most taxing.

I relate these terrors to you, dear reader, only that you may know this madness, and take every precaution, lest careless error on the part of you or your provider of inter-world-net service should plunge you into a black, howling horror of your own. I can not possibly express the relief I feel as I listen to the whine of the computing machine, now operational, and await, once again, the warm, accumulating embrace of Dust.