Night, Night, Sleep Tight...

Today's LR headline lets us know that Greenwich is not immune from the humble bedbug, which has recently invaded our fair town. So far the problem has been reported in three housing projects, but my guess is that, like the bubonic plagues of the Middle Ages, the scourge will spare neither king nor peasant before all is said and done.

Yes, I said "housing projects". Contrary to popular belief, not all Greenwichites live in McMansions, and in fact the town receives a significant amount of community block grant aid each year from the state and federal government. Just yesterday, the state cited two of our elementary schools for racial imbalance - too high a proportion of minority students, it seems. So please take your preconceptions of Greenwich, whatever they may be, and adjust them accordingly. If you are in any doubt as to how to perceive the town, your scribe will endeavor to set you straight. (In fact, I see that as my humble self-appointed task, as if you didn't already know.)

In other news, there will be a supersecret shindig tonight at the Author Babe's house. It has to remain cloaked in mystery lest a certain gatecrasher known in these pages as Snickerson learn of its existence and decide to invite himself to join the party (even though he belongs to the other one). He, like the Doll, has no sense of shame, and is quick to inject himself where he neither belongs nor is wanted. Thus my lips are sealed for the nonce, but I will unseal them tomorrow and let you know about the AB's saloon - er, salon (her pun, not mine).

There - I've added my splash of color for the day. No doubt I will hear from the AB as to whether she likes pink, or prefers fuschia or taupe or lemony snicket or some other color. As for the Author Whiz, her color is more of a dusky rose, I think - not sure this is the right shade, but I'll try it for now.