Not sure how I will respond if anyone asks me on Tuesday how I spent the long weekend. “Well, originally I had this box with twelve operas in it, and then there were five, and I thought I might watch all five, and then instead of cooking dinner on Saturday night I decided to skip the hassle and have Cheez-Its instead . . . .no, I didn’t go to the game. By the time it started I was halfway through Der Rosenkavalier and covered in orange crumbs.”
I suppose if I want to deflect attention from my bizarre weekend activities I can tell people about what happened right after “Wie du warst! wie du bist!” which was that a man in fatigues and wading boots knocked on my door loud enough to bring both my neighbor and me outside and asked me, squinting, whether I knew where the field was around here for *mumble*hunting.
I have this impression that this man was wearing mirrored sunglasses, but I also remember the squint, so I can’t be sure. I do remember thinking that he looked an awful lot like how General Patton looks in the movies. It turned out that he wanted to hunt doves. I think. Neither my neighbor nor I knew where anyone might go to do this, so General Patton returned to his pickup and made his way north.