-- Tuesday, March 21, 2000 --

11:20 p.m. Now we're going to talk about the essence of a human being, the deep core gristle of the marriage bond, and we'll discuss in general terms just what it means when people tell you to leave well enough alone.

Last night was a not-so-classic all-nighter, what with red flashing lights and all the general excitement. I got a lot of work done after all the commotion died down and the night drew to a more gentle, less windy close.

Once the sun comes up and heats the atmosphere, the mad boiling stew of wind usually simmers down and all the little birdies feel safe enough to start singing and perching on wires and cleaning under their wings again.

I'm happy to say that I was witness to the most beautiful sunrise and the golden liquid early morning sunlight that I see so rarely these days. It was splashing down through the big open hole in the roof, of course, but it was nonetheless tender and brilliant and I noted the hole and the sunlight as I trundled off to bed.

The big monster spinner was safe and secure in a crook of the roof patio. Several hours of sleep beckoned. Or, so I thought. Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, right past the handy porthole window we have that looks out on the roof, I saw the unmistakable flash of familiar blue jeans as my beloved Igor paced back and forth on the roof deck.

He was fussing and worrying about the birds, whom he believed were massing and muttering and planning to dive bomb through the opening hole as if it were the flume ride at Knots Berry farm. I could hear him shooing and flapping and you know this is going to come to no good, no good at all.

Still, I climbed into bed and put the pillow over my head. I was nearly asleep when I heard that unmistakable heavy metal squalling sound and felt a pretty big thump. I ran to the porthole window just in time to see the spinner -- the entire big huge rusted metal spinner -- fly past the window, off the roof, and down into the less-than-friendly next-door neighbor's yard below.

Igor had somehow managed to get the thing up on the roof by himself and he'd almost managed to get it back up on the extended arm ... and it was poised there when he sort of moved it a little ... and it went flying. Luckily, it was still too early for preschool.

Next, he lost a big ball of string when he tried to tie a towel over the hole. Eventually he managed to get a towel to stay up there and so far, no birds have dive-bombed into our private air space. Igor doesn't even like moths, let alone birds.

I managed to sleep for a few hours and even changed out of my handy 24-7 sweatsuit-sleeping outfit before a mini-presentation of the secret demo. Progress points were met and I am back at work the second I upload this entry.

Igor took a shower and got back to his work with a totally unfounded sense of pride and accomplishment.

The handy man next door returned our spinner with nary a word. But not the string. A handier man is coming tomorrow with sheet metal and an invoice.

And so it goes.