Where's The Love?!

{palm strike to the forehead} Hell's bells... why am I so slow?


TLC stands for The Love Connection! ...and they missed me! That explains perfectly Lady McCorky's tragic, plaintive, words and gesture on the Fishback stage this morning.


Playbill for this season (and the past two seasons): My neighbors' display true thoughtlessness (oops... thoughtfulness) by waking me up daily at 3:00 a.m. to take in their perfomance of the hour-long Ice Bucket Brigade. Also, Monday's performances usually include the special 15-minute guest appearance of the Crystal Dairy Diesel. The wind-up scene, ninety-five minutes into this farce, is when T, L, and C part ways for the day: Curious Corky doing her 20-yard Dog Dish Dash, while Limping Lynda and Tight-Lipped Theresa try to steer their lumbering roach coach in a straight line down the road to greet the sunrise.


For the past several weeks, I acknowledged their kindness by turning on all the lights in my house and sitting on my porch under the porch light to witness their climax.


Sadly, for them, no lights were on this morning. At the pivotal moment of craning their necks to scan their audience, they saw only darkness. In the headlight beams of the rumbling monster kitchen, Lady McCorky, diva of the street stage, raised her hands heavenward and in a heart-wrenching expression of soul-anguish, exclaimed "Where's the love?!" Her cooped-up culinery companions clapped their hands in enthusiastic accompaniment.


I nearly leapt from my chair on the darkened porch to call out her answer, "Your love is here! Your love is here!"


Fickle women.


These three thespians take every opportunity in their corporate yard to flip me the bird (figuratively... and literal chicken), yet wail aloud on the public concourse when I do not show up to french kiss them good-bye each morning.


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(Oh, wait... were they being sarcastic?)

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Sixteen days remaining on the 30-day response...