Problem solved.

And, now, having had the experience of the desolate empty-house dream, I know that it’s probably wise just to stay in bed at night. No reason to go anywhere. Just sit tight. Snuggled beneath the sheets.

Yes, it is possible I could explore other options. Of course, but let’s not get carried away when the entire canon of both novels and cinema is at my disposal. And that new subscription to CuriosityStream, which means entire series on the Silk Road, the rise and fall of the Roman Empire, and the Wars of the Roses. Not to mention podcasts.

For instance, right now I’m enthralled by the true story podcast of a southern California suburb where a rich, sweet interior designer has been seduced by a homeless man posing as a doctor. You see, you can’t make this stuff up. So, yes, there may be scratches, but my armor is my apathy. And my addiction to the internet.

Just as I am about to start my day by listening to episode three of said podcast, there’s a knock at the back door. Hmm. That must be one of the construction guys. Well, my job is to oversee this baby, so that means I will have to not only get up out of this blissful bed, but actually get dressed, comb my hair, and make sure I have not slobbered all over myself somewhere in the night.

The pounding continues as I descend the stairs, and there, framed in the little window of the farm-style back door of the kitchen, is Mike. He squints at my figure coming toward him.

“Late night?” He smiles.

“Um, yeah. I was up . . . studying,” I defend myself.

“Studying? Really? Over the summer?” he asks, crinkling his forehead.

Wow. I guess Mike is a bit of a nosey noodle.

“Um, actually, I have a project I’m working on. It has to do with the mesh of civilizations in southern Spain, Andalusia, and how, perhaps, the Alhambra declaration is what directly led to the fall of the Spanish Empire.”

He looks at me for a moment.

“I’m researching it for a possible history dissertation. It’s never too early to start thinking about it. I’m planning on doing a dual major in history and religion.” That part is at least true.

“Guess you’re ahead of the game. Don’t most people take the summer before college off?” He now looks honestly concerned about my well-being.

“Most people probably have more money than I do.” This comes out before I can stop myself. Stupid. What a vulgar thing to say! My grandma says you’re never supposed to talk about money.

“Wait. Are you getting paid to stay here?” He looks up at the house, as if the house could answer.

“Um, yeah. And to just make sure all . . . this . . . goes okay, I guess.” I gesture to the construction.

“This? You mean us? Are you here to watch us?”

“Oh, no, it’s not—”