Right! And are they coming to you with letters of introduction? Are they saying, "Oh, Baba, I'm your cousin's niece's stepson, and I brought you a pot of jam," before they start getting demanding? If you'd wanted a never-ending stream of callers, would you have gone to all the trouble of building--or grafting, or inventing, or whatever the right word is--a hut with chicken legs? (I adore the idea of a house that can run away.) No! You would have set up shop as a consultant, God damn it.

I got here via vschanoes, and I'm friending you. Do, by all means, put me on your feminism filter.