The Unlikelies. Chapter 2 Part 2. The Cleanse.

Some things shouldn’t be structured. Not writing. Not sandwiches. Not people.

I was so busy trying to unravel my newly revealed purpose in writing that I almost lost track of time.

My mind was traveling a mile a minute.

And I had forgotten to finish cleansing Irv.

Fortunately, I was organized enough to start the tea just after Len and I unwrapped Irv, so now the tea is more than ready. Talk about a slow boil.

ugh…I could feel the unspoken question being asked. So I will answer it:

Of course, Irv needs to be cleansed.

Between who and what handled the computer before it was packed, the packaging, the journey of the package, and then the outer box, and then the Bridges…ew.

The cleansing ritual must be dealt with for peace of mind before my precious writing time begins, where I will spill to Irving…

I poured the steaming jasmine tea into two cups and was ready to get the cleansing done.

So I stuck my head outside and called out to Lenny, who was patiently waiting there still, out in the yard, not far from the door—intentionally remaining outside to give me my space to get to know Irving. Patient as a footman. Polite as a butler. Poised as a prince.

And it was so sweet, seeing him just standing there waiting to be called to come in.

“I’m not sure anthropomorphizing consumer electronics through aromatherapy constitutes legitimate ritual practice,” Lenny muttered.

I ignored the mutter.

I instructed him before handing over his cup.

• First, smell the tea—savor the scent.
• Then, while it’s still very hot and steamy, wave the cup around in circles, allowing the cleansing cloud of jasmine steam to hover over Irv.
• “Hover over,” I repeated, showing Len, circling the cup of brewed jasmine on top of my Irv.

Len gave me his brick‑wall, what‑are‑you‑talking‑about stare, the one that is sometimes accompanied by an eye roll.

He gets that way often with Cal and with me.

But this time, his brick-wall stare crumbled quickly.

He adjusted his sleeves before taking the cup, as if it might singe the cuffs.

“You know this is borderline cult stuff,” he muttered—but his hand didn’t shake when he waved the steam.

***He not only got it—he was a pro. ***

He thoroughly did the ‘hover, over’.

Then, without my prompting, he put the jasmine tea cup down, went to the living room, and brought the burning sandalwood stick from the coffee table to the kitchen!

He did the ‘hover over’ on Irving with the burning stick—smoking the space, clearing Irv’s energies and ours.

He set the burning sandalwood stick back in its holder on the coffee table and then—get this—he ran to the table by the front door and took the spray bottle and misted antiseptic everywhere.

Yes. He’s getting good at this.

Eh, it got a little ‘fusion’ with the spray – but it’s the intention that counts.

Cleansing the Surfaces, Air, and Energies Ritual: done.

---

Next. Food.

---

So, I decided to scavenge the fridge and pantry to put together ‘sandwiches” for us to nosh before I would start my “heart to heart” with Irving….

Actually, a heart-to-heart with Cal is what has precedence…but that has to wait till she comes.

PS

Based on what I found available in the kitchen, I started to create what I imagined would turn out as some crisp crostini made of perfectly grilled and seared cheese (goat cheese) topped by a delicate dollop of fig jam, an aesthetically pleasing schmear of a fine, spicy, grainy, overpriced mustard, and a few (who knew they would be so limp?) arugula leaves.

I wanted to achieve that perfect architecture—like a stack.

But in reality, the multi-layered aesthetic crostini didn’t come out as my mind pictured it. They came out a bit more “abstract.”

They were a deconstructed, messy version of what I had expected.

• The cheese came out gorgeous— ‘grilled’ hues of gradient color and bearing perfectly spaced seared lines of black like plaid.

• But the cheese seemed to “relax” as it spread its gorgeous self a bit too far across the confines of the bread.
• Reminded me of the slumped stance of the girl in that painting “Little Girl in a Blue Armchair” by Mary Cassat.
• The slumpy sprawl of the cheese became a meme that took over the small world of the crostini. The fig marmalade and mustard followed suit, spreading into the same languorous sprawl.

This languor managed to soften the bread as the ingredients gorgeously spilled themselves beyond ‘the outer boundaries’ of the bread.

I watched the topped layers cascade gracefully down and onto the dish.

There was such a decadent look to the sandwich.

And seriously, I am glad that I created a decadent, sensuous, messy spill. (Even though I attempted ‘perfectly structured artsy layers.’)

So, I called this sandwich “The Attempt.”

We ate. Lenny loved it. He licked his fingers.

That’s a first.

Seriously.

He would never lick his fingers.

Cal and I are helping Len explore messiness and let go of living behind that shield of order and restraint.

Len and I are trying to get Calypso to be less goal/material‑driven and allow herself to be more laid‑back.

Cal and Len are trying to make me more organized and structured—more productive in the material sense. Redirect my creative chaos into a more contained, flowing stream instead of that reckless current of inertia.

Can we do this?

Time will tell….

Now? I need to move forward and to focus on what I have to discuss with Cal. And other things… I need to finally focus on many other things…

---

The Unlikelies. A Diary Novel. By Sosanni Valtsioti. All Rights Reserved. © 2025