I almost always know where Rob is. This is not a psychic phenomenon: all one has to do is follow the trail of open cabinets, lights left on, discarded crossword puzzles, empty coffee cups, and crumbs from whatever he last consumed.

Yet another kind of trail has appeared in our neighborhood in recent months. Someone has taken to writing chalk messages on the sidewalks, instructions to thoughtless dog owners: “Pick up your poop!” “You flush the toilet, don’t you?” “Even little poops must be picked up!” These, along with the poop, are washed away with the rain, but they always return. In front of a nearby house is a chalk drawing of two sinister little girls holding hands. Legend has it that these two creatures patrol the neighborhood, twittering in shrill, scratchy voices (with inexplicably Japanese accents) as they write their admonishments.

The populace is terrified.

The obvious course of action would be to commission the Japanese monster-girls to follow Rob and leave pointed messages around the house, but I have a weak heart and chalk powder is murder on the upholstery.

Update: I'll be out of town from Sunday until Friday, so blogging may be light until then.

Update: Oh, I just saw a movie called What the Bleep do We Know?, which is completely fabulous and completely validates my entire worldview. Run, don't walk, to see it. Run, I say!