What, again?

There's the old lumber storage shed. Then there's that ancient grain silo - hasn't been used for years. Oh, yeah... and that little room in the north corner of the foundry - forgot about that.

Oh, hi. Welcome to the land of a thousand compromises. (Notice that the word "promise" is embedded in "compromises" - coincidence?) What is it this time, you may ask? Well... just trying to accommodate a few visitors. Actually, more than a few - a whole herd of visitors. No, the mongooses have not returned... they've clearly found richer fields of breadfruit elsewhere. This has more to do with the various negotiations we have to engage in around this place to keep all of our constituencies happy. (It gets goddamn tiresome sometimes, I can tell you, but would you want to listen? Be honest!) You got to give a little to get a little, right? That's our credo.

I know what you're thinking. (I'm quite gifted that way, actually. Your favorite fruit is cantaloupe... and your favorite hooved creature... antelope.) What exactly is the problem with a few extra guests, right? We've got a whole abandoned mill to work with - surely we can find the room. Okay - first of all, we're not talking about conventional two-legged humans, the kind that can crash on a couch or sleep in the bathtub. (As long as they don't bathe on the couch, I'm okay.) No, no... our guests are relatives of the man-sized tuber. In an attempt to coax him out of his funk (and out from under the tool shed), we made the somewhat ill-advised promise to invite all of his living relatives over for a week or two. Now, I admit, I did not fully consider the implications of this when it left my lips. (New experience for me.)

You see, they're all freaking plants - every last one of them. And while we've been able to accommodate the man-sized tuber himself (e.g. build a terrarium, provide water and fertilizer, etc.), it's a substantial undertaking to make this place livable for dozens of his blood relatives. (When I say "blood", I really mean something more like "sap".) I've got Mitch Macaphee and Marvin (my personal robot assistant) working on the problem right now, though each has been busy with his own personal obsessions. (Yes, Marvin is still whirring and clicking about that Canadian space robot named Dextre... so much so that I can't even get a shovel into his lazy hands.) Mitch has designed an irrigation system for the courtyard that could help get us through the next few days, but with more heat in the forecast, we can't leave those suckers out in the sun for too long. Don't want to think of what might become of them. (Some kind of casserole, no doubt.)

Well, back to our labors. Ever notice how neither Lincoln nor anti-Lincoln are anywhere to be found when there is real work to be done? Emancipators indeed!