Part 6 - Jean Tinguely, John Galt and an omelette

What's happening, kiddo??

Caren's coming back soon and it had me thinking about management strategies of all things. Sitting in my black Ergo chair, and ruminating about this very compromised situation, my focus ricochets from work duties to existential musings to menial tasks to asking myself why I do anything of it at all, given what I know is the fate of this place. Just as my turmoil hit a crescendo today, 6 PM came and I felt an immediate urge to finish my part of in our project. I thought how amazing it is that some people (ahem) spend every ounce of their will trying to bend the world to their liking...and because that world has a will of its own, it fights back. Yet, because of my general respect for this project, my contribution, your opinion, etc. etc., I would go to great lengths to make sure that none of it is ever compromised on my account. So much bending, so much exerted will, and sometimes all you have to do is stop trying and give in. "Who is JOHN GALT!!!"

Just a thought...I've had a lot of time to generate them.

Another unforeseen quality of this project has been how simultaneously stressful and beneficial the lack of direct contact has been. I feel much more fluid and inspired when I write because I don't exhaust all my thoughts in a wild verbal flourish from 10:41 AM to 11:14 AM. I think it says a lot for the value of restraint, time and routine....and probably, "silence," I hear you say!

So, about the Greenhouse...oh I forgot one thing from section 4. I neglected to mention that there was a Jean Tinguely contraption in the salon where Mr. Chao died. A little bit of familiar content creeping into things, huh?

The dramatic wavelength of this book seems to be about 7.5 pages long, making every othe section for us fall at either a crest or a trough of action. This time, mine was a trough, so your next section looks to be a doozer. Part 6 begins with Rowan trying to settle down to bed after the mayhem from the night before. She wakes up after a long sleep "like the proverbial log" at 11:30, and then heads downstairs to the dining room for breakfast (if this concept is unfamiliar, Caroline, "breakfast" is what we now refer to as "brunch" but without alcoholic beverages and hangovers.) The room is empty of life but for a placesetting and a note. It is written in her aunt's handwriting, handwriting that seems to slant in "several different directions at once" - I'm not Carl Jung or that doctor on HOUSE, but I'd say this description is suggestive. Rowan is instructed in the letter to head to the Greenhouse after eating and that James would give her directions. Mrs. Chow makes Rowan breakfast -- at this point, I too thought I had caught a typo: o-m-e-l-e-t, which I spell omelette; however it seems both are correct.

RATS! Ten dollars to the first person to catch a typo?? Would that be Hong Kong or American dollars??

Chow reveals that the previous night's death was deemed an accident by the police, as the balcony rail was loose. "Mis' Dickson, she always putting off fixing balcony rail. Now too late." Rowan offers her two-cents worth of forensics science, proposing that Chao would have known that the balcony was unstable since he'd been around for a while. But Mrs. Chow rebuts the suggestion by noting how big the house is and that the deceased was more of an outdoors guy.

Rowan finishes breakfast and goes to find James Kee, who is not in his office, and then determines that she should find her Aunt on her own....

Dum da dum dum
Dum da dum dum

Dum,