I’m down in DC again for the week, so I’m afraid you’ll have to wait until I head back to Jersey next week for the last three chapters of my thrilling tale. Hopefully no one will die of the suspense.

In the meantime, I must recount a perplexing incident I encountered recently. I was casually reposing downstairs one morning at my mom’s place, not properly dressed yet wearing my new dance shoes at the same time – for the purpose of breaking them in, of course (I finally broke down and got them so as not to murder my poor feet whenever I get the chance to go salsa or swing, but that has nothing to do with the point of this post), when suddenly I heard a man’s voice speaking, rather assertively, in a foreign language at the front door. My mom had told me that the cleaning ladies would be by later in the afternoon, but, just my luck, it was a man, maybe two, and they were early. At least I had already stacked everything up in my living quarters so that you could see the floor, but I was in no condition to surprise a couple of strange men.

Without a moment’s hesitation I bolted up the stairs, kicked off the shoes, locked myself in the bathroom and hopped in the shower. Imagine my surprise then, when emerging from the bathroom, I met two women, busy at work. I said hello and stayed out of their way, but did listen in to their Spanish chatter to see how much I could pick up. After they had been cleaning for about an hour, I sensed an uncomfortable silence, and then an ominous declaration: “Jefe.” There was a split-second consultation just before the one holding the phone answered it and told him they would be only 15 minutes more. This was followed by an increase in vacuum speed and frenetic activity. They packed up everything, said goodbye, and went out to meet him as he drove up in the driveway.

Does this seem strange to anyone else?