The Stranger's Woes Read Online Free PDF

couldn’t help laughing out loud.
    “Give me a break,” Kofa protested. “It’s a perfectly ordinary physiognomy. We can’t all look handsome and debonair.” Then he passed his hands slowly over his face, and his own countenance returned to where it belonged. “Go home, Max. Feed your cats, milk them, clip their fur—or whatever it is you novice farmers do to your farm animals at sunrise. I’ll be here until Juffin arrives, anyway.”
    “All right,” I said. “Whatever you say. You have secrets to tell him?”
    “No secrets. I’m just tired, that’s all. There’s a fury of a woman waiting for me at home. I’ve got to sleep sometime, somewhere, don’t I?”
    “A fury of a woman? At home?” I was surprised. I suddenly realized that I hadn’t the slightest clue about my colleague’s personal life. I knew about all the others, but up until then Sir Kofa Yox had been a blank spot in my personal gossip column.
    “That’s right. My cleaning lady. Yesterday I refused to marry her again. She claims my refusal was an anniversary—the sixtieth. Atili is a wonderful woman, of course, but I hate ceremonies. And some people are foolish enough to think they guarantee the longevity of feelings.”
    “Sir Kofa,” I said. “I’m on your side, believe me.”
    “I guessed as much. Aversion to officially enshrined customs is written all over your face. In letters this big.” Here he stretched out his arms to demonstrate. “Go home, Max. You’re a perpetual party in my uneventful life, but, honestly, I’m so tired.”
    “I get the picture. I’m gone.”

     
    And I flew headlong out the door. Let him rest, poor guy. I had to catch my luck by the tail. Who knew when I’d get another chance to tidy up my own apartment?
    The need for a thorough spring cleaning was growing more urgent by the day. Armstrong and Ella, my cats, have a knack for turning everything upside down. Of course, I could have called in one of those unlucky people who have to earn a living by scraping the crap off other people’s backsides, but the idea didn’t sit well with me. Some mournful soul would traipse into my house, crawl around the living room on hands and knees, and slosh around a wet rag. I’d give instructions and then, feeling disgusted with myself, set out for the nearest tavern. After which the professional scrubber would breathe a sigh of relief, rummage through my desk and closets, throw away important papers, break a few things, and put everything else in places it didn’t belong. No thanks.
    Now the hour of reckoning had arrived, though. I’d have to pay for my convictions. You don’t want to keep a servant, you don’t have to, but keep your house in order, at least, I had told myself every morning since my return from Kettari. Then I would tell myself patiently, I’ll clean it up later, when I have a bit more time.
    In the meantime, the mess was entering a new phase. Chaos, plain and simple, reigned in my apartment. Life was becoming intolerable.
    So it was now or never. With this in mind I drove home more slowly than usual—even more slowly than the local speed demons. Eventually I arrived home, though. Some things just can’t be avoided.

     
    I hadn’t been able to get used to my new apartment on the Street of Yellow Stones. There was too little of me for six huge rooms. One of them became my living room, another one—on the second floor—my bedroom, and the other four constituted a testing range for all manner of experiments involving my cats. After a time, I concluded that two well-fed one-year-old cats can remain in a state of constant rapid and random motion for up to a dozen hours. Strange, when we lived in two rooms on the Street of Old Coins, Armstrong and Ella had been inveterate couch potatoes. Apparently, limitless expanses really do lead to an increase in uncivilized behavior in living species. I even caught myself in the secret wish to play tag, but I lacked suitable like-minded anthropomorphic