Greetings, my fellow port swillers and an early welcome to the weekend! It’s about dang time.

Several days down to the office this week. Ol’ Robbo is here to tell you that the Dee Cee Metro, which once prided itself on its cleanliness, has gone completely to pot recently. The cars are downright filthy now, and I come out of the system feeling perfectly contaminated. I can only suppose they don’t have enough folks to keep up with the maintenance anymore.

For those of you following the Port Swiller Manor basement saga, we had the engineer back out the other evening to finalize the bracing and waterproofing project and sign the papers. Gulp. Mrs. R was practically dancing with frustration and had the poor fellah awash in embarrassment and profuse with apologies, and doing his best to reduce the pain as much as possible. But, alas, we have no real choice in this biznay. The one bit of bright side, at least from Ol’ Robbo’s point of view, was Mrs. R’s determination that if we’re paying that kind of jack, they can take out the drywall and framing themselves.

For those of you following the Gels’ Big Adventures, the elder two seem to have settled in quite nicely at school and sound genuinely enthusiastic about their new classes. Eldest had been fretting and fussing all summah about the what, how, and where of life at a new school in a new town, asking a lot of questions which I assured her she would answer for herself within a couple of days of getting there. Which she has. It’s almost as if Ol’ Dad was prophetic. Meanwhile, Middle Gel immediately went out and adopted a kitten. Because she could. I had managed to make her confine herself to a hamster when she was an undergrad, but she’s out of my clutches now. Of course, not a word to our cats at home about this. (What’s going to happen when she comes home on break remains to be seen.) Meanwhile, we hear from Youngest Down Under every now and again. The other day she sent a picture of herself at a Brisbane rugby game. She was wearing a Washington Nationals jersey. Because she’s that kind of nut. “Well, I needed something red for our team!” she said. (Apparently, whatever the club she’s following seem to be about as inept as the Nats this year. They got crushed at the game she attended.)

Whelp, Ol’ Robbo needs to be about what I like to call my non-paying job about the house. We’re actually hosting a small dinner party this weekend (I can’t remember the last time we did this) and there are a thousand and one things to do to tidy the place up.