There's A Man Hanging By His Pants Seat

In my office today, everyone was restless and no one could concentrate. My student worker, one of the few people all my life to get Defenestration of Prague humor, has taken a job as an archivist closer to his home in Parsippany, so today was his last day. As is our custom, we ate pizza and talked about matters that interested the person departing, and me, because I am a conversational tsunami headed for the tiny fishing village that is, you know, anyone else. And I wanted to talk about unicycles because I want one desperately, though I cannot juggle. Oh, how I've tried! But this did nothing to settle the mood of the office, and a short time later, Mathilde turned the corner and sulked in the doorway of my cubicle. English is her third or fourth language, so at some point this afternoon:

Mathilde: When someone annoys me I curse him in a language he doesn't speak!
Tata: From now on, no one should curse anyone in any Romance language, because I will laugh, and we will all be embarrassed. That includes Romanian!
Mathilde: I wouldn't curse you in French. You'd understand me.
Tata: Not only that, but I really would!

It should come as no surprise, then, that Mathilde's restlessness resulted in discussion of my wacky exhaustion and Mathilde's houseful of men suffering Rwandan war PTSD and DIY deficiency.

Tata: Then we painted the apartment and the next day I couldn't get off the couch.
Mathilde: I want to paint but I can't do it myself. No one will help me!
Tata: Okay okay okay - you paint what you want, then take a bath and lock the door.
Mathilde: I can't do that! I only have one bathroom.
Tata: I know. Calgon will get you a second.
Mathilde: What do you mean?
Tata: While you're in the tub, tell them to hold it.
Mathilde: I can't do that!
Tata: Sure you can! They're men. The world is their bathroom. Oooh! Build them an outhouse!
Donna: They can pee behind a rock.
Tata: It doesn't even have to be a very big rock!
Mathilde: The neighbors will call 911!
Tata: The neighbors will help build the outhouse!

Fortunately, a workday is only about twenty-six hours long.