Good news and bad news, darlings. Take the good news first. If you take the good news first you get a moment of pure happiness. When you take it second you have the taste of the bad news still in your mouth.

Did I just ruin the good news? Anyway: We’re moving into the kitchen today! It doesn’t sound exciting to you? But it is exciting. I’m excited. I’m happy. I want to dance like James Brown. I want to stand on a Chinatown rooftop and Hula for an hour. I want to sing the entire cast recording of South Pacific, except “Happy Talk”. I will almost certainly get drunk. Here’s your pashta, kids. Enjoy.

Bad news: I don’t know that Tyler, our fish, will ever really be able to enjoy the kitchen the way he wanted to. Oh, Tyler. Born somewhere to some other Betta fish by whatever method Betta fish give birth, then ripped from his parents’ loving embrace, stolen away and sold in a pet store to our babysitter, Jennifer, as a gift for Henry’s birthday. Nothing good happened after that, either. First the bowl was too small, then too cold. It pains me to say it, but young Tyler was the subject of verbal abuse each night when he was too stupid to find his food.

The bowl situation stabilized. He was warmer, and less sluggish. David became adept at feeding him. Then, a fateful day when Henry vigorously stirred the bamboo sticks in Tyler’s bowl, damaging his back fin. Or did he? Because where the fin used to be continues to degrade, and Tyler’s looking all eaten up, somehow, and stays basically at the bottom of his bowl. He’s been in our bedroom for this last part of the construction, and David becomes sad seeing him at night. I offered to flush him, but David said No. Still, I don’t think Tyler is long for this world. Tyler will never enjoy our new kitchen, that he dreamed so long about. But I will.