A large dead bird arrived today. The other items in the refrigerator are keeping their distance, as the jack and the spare tire might do in a murderer's trunk. This has nothing to do with Tuesday, however. Tuesday is innocent. Wednesday, on the other hand, is deeply involved, there's no use pretending otherwise. We won't even speak of Thursday. And Friday is like the fixer in Dylan's "Highway 61 Revistited" who complicitly says "Yes, it can be very easily done." Friday's in it up to its eyeballs.
But Tuesday is innocent. Maybe it has a certain twinkle of amusement. But it goes about its business with its usual Tuesday matter-of-factness. Maybe it even whistles, very low. It can be allowed that. If it goes any further, like a throaty chuckle, then it runs the risk of smugness. And smugness means it might be hiding something. Tuesday blinks its large innocent eyes behind its glasses. "Me? Not at all!" And its smile, under its trim moustache, is so sincere, you immediately chastise yourself for being suspicious.
Meanwhile, as I write, Barack Obama is hosting the prime minister of India at the White House in a state dinner. The menu, according to the blog Taragana: Potato and eggplant salad; White House arugula with onion seed vinaigrette; 2008 sauvignon blanc, Modus Operandi, Napa Valley, Calif.; Red lentil soup with fresh cheese; 2006 Riesling, Brooks “Ara,” Willamette Valley, Ore.; Roasted potato dumplings with tomato chutney, chick peas and okra or green curry prawns, caramelized salsify with smoked collard greens and coconut-aged basmati; 2007 grenache, Beckmen Vineyards, Santa Ynez, Calif.; Pumpkin pie tart, pear tatin, whipped cream and caramel sauce; Sparkling chardonnay, Thibaut Janisson Brut, Monticello, Va.; Petits fours and coffee; Cashew brittle; Pecan pralines; Passion fruit and vanilla gelees; Chocolate-dipped fruit.
I'm just saying.