Opal got here today.
Let's say that again, for the hard of hearing.
OPAL IS HERE (EN: This should probably be surprising. It isn't.)
The other day, Opal was in North Dakota. Now, I'm no cartographer, but North Dakota? IS A RATHER LONG WAY AWAY FROM THIS HOUSE.
(EN: That's House, the all caps make it tricky to tell)
On the other hand, I've had better sleep over the past two nights than I've had in the past two months. Am I clear-headed? Remarkably, YES. (EN: Sleep and August's cooking didn't hurt)
Am I a little angry with Opal? Not surprisingly... yes. (EN: Really just a little.)
But enough of the preamble! Let's get to the review.
I've spent fourteen hours sleeping. This is a miracle, since I've gotten four hours at a stretch and this has been filled with- you should already know at this point. (EN: Trees)
My day has had a fixed routine for a while. Get up, whenever. Turn on a bit of music, check blogs. Yesterday I found two lovely gems waiting for me.
This comment from Opal
And this later post on her blog.
So first question.
How the hell did Opal know where I was going? (EN: I'm assuming he told her)
How did Opal get to Vermont so quickly? (EN: The answer is, in the most insane way possible)
I found out the answer to the second question a little later.
I'm not sure if I should write it down here. We'll see if Opal writes that one on her own.
I couldn't say when Opal got to the House.
The earlier parts of the day I'd spent sleeping, stealing bits of food from the kitchen when no one was looking (which I would later discover was wise), listening to classical music and rereading blogs. (yes, Spencer, there was a reason). At some point, I went out to the table by the kitchen with a pack of cards and started to play solitaire.
I have spent many hours killing time by playing solitaire. So I sort of lost track of when it was.
(EN: I really have. The problem is the aces tend to wind up shuffled wrong. It takes a few tries)
"Nemo, good evening. I didn't see you around earlier." August... smiles a lot I think. It takes some getting used to.
This was followed by a "Nemo?"
And of course there's this mousy little stick of a girl with him. "August, is that who I think it is?"
Cue about a minute of absolutely awkward first encounters. Normally, I would glaze over this section. There's nothing interesting, frankly it's sort of embarrassing in hindsight. But since Opal is going to read this at some point.
(EN: If she doesn't, I'll be surprised.)
"WORDS DO NOT DESCRIBE HOW STUPID THAT WAS"
(EN: They really don't)
I asked August what he and Opal were doing, to which August responded with a list of vague, semi-specific things he was going to do, and then suggested food.
I'm not going to turn down food. Especially since I haven't eaten anything terribly substantive since pizza earlier the previous morning. The fast food the previous night didn't count.
Pasta sounded good. Opal and I offered to help.
Apparently August has a code of some sort as to how the kitchen is run. This includes that under no conditions do guests cook. (EN: We'll see how long that lasts)
In fact, I would go so far as to say he was vehement over the point. No one is to cook but August.
The pasta was good though.
(August, I'm making you a sign, to hang somewhere in the kitchen. For the sake of future guests. It will read "There is only ONE cook in this House. If you are reading this, it isn't you.")