A Dreary Day in S.P., Until Belly Went to Sleep in Brooklyn

Today is one of those tuckered-out drizzly days. Zhanar got lost downtown last night, without a phone or any way for anyone to contact her, plus she didn't really know where World Headquarters is. Plot and her friend Helen scoured the streets looking for her, as Plot wondered exactly what he would tell Zhanar's brother when he called to see how she was doing and Plot would have to tell him he had no idea where she was. But she eventually figured out how to get home by herself, no small feat for a 19-year-old stranger in a strange land.

She and Helen have been hit with the realization of how hard it is to find a place to live and work in this city, especially in the summer when all the kids are already looking for the fewer and fewer jobs available, when even rooms on Craig's List require the transportation Zhanar doesn't have to go check them out. Perhaps our city's size has surprised her -- but she will have to be settled in a hostel by tonight as tomorrow morning Plot and Duck have a 5am wake-up call for their trip to Brooklyn.

And it's dreary and cold. It's the Saint Plotniko summer that Plotnik hates until he gets to where it's humid. And The Great PD has the flu in Brooklyn.

And yet: last night, when The Great FiveHead was trying to put Isabella to sleep in her new big-girl bed, she took the phone from her mom. "This is Bobo, Isabella. Sweet Dreams," said Ducknik and Plotnik said "This is Papa, Isabella. Sweet dreams."

Isabella said: "I am going to dream of Papa and Bobo."

(Sound of Worry Cloud dissipating.)

Oh boy, we'll be there tomorrow. BZ flies to Minnesota tomorrow but we'll see her in Providence in 10 days. Next post: The Big Shmapple. Plotnik is taking his Game Six Hat, just in case.