When last we left our cast of seedy characters,
Gilda The Housemaid was spotted
cozying up to the master of the house.
But, sly minx that she is, that was only a smokescreen.
Her real target?
The ne'er-do-well, wastrel son of the family, Dylan diPoochy.
I caught them this morning in flagrante delicto.
(Well, actually, in the Study is where I really caught them.)
You think I haven't noticed what's been happening, you two?
Ha! It takes more than smokescreens and red herrings
to fool a canny old woman like me!
|"Don't be mad, Mom!"|
While I can't say I am thrilled at this May-December romance,
at least I know there won't be any grandchildren.
As for The Body in the Library, in that big red bag?
Well, silly me.
It was one of the Indoor Potty Christmas Trees.
There's another one just like it, and they're both
now hanging like giant bats from a cellar joist.
That's enough silly for today.
Shabby is as Shabby does.
Some farmhouse and cottage inspiration,
and a few new plans.
May your Thursday be as sunny as ours;
tomorrow brings another February snowstorm.
I guess that's normal for early February,
as it is, after all . . .
New York is one of only two metropolitan areas
in the USA that receives more than 50-percent
of its annual snowfall after Ground Hog Day.
Well, isn't that special?
Time to hunker down -- Cass
|"So, is it my fault he licks himself there? Men!"|