Yeah, I know. This again. It’s a disappointment, isn’t it?

It was planned before the Sorrows of August, and I'm glad I have all this material ready to go so I can step away. We're still looking and hoping - Scout's Case Worker says two to five weeks is normal. If anything changes, trust me - it'll be right here at the top of the Bleat.

As for the Hiatal Interlude, you know I wouldn't take a break and just leave the site to rot for a while. There’ll be something new every day! Sure, you say, but what are the chances I’ll try to fob off something old and hope you didn’t remember it? If the stuff here is so hot, why hasn't it been given a site of its own, or added elsewhere? Am I just cleaing out the closet and leaving you with dusty, second-rate material?

Well, yes, but it’s better than nothing, isn’t it?

By the way: are they traveling upside down in Canada? So. What will it be today? What sort of stuff do I have sitting around that hasn't moved to the top of the line?

How about . . . THE CLOCKS OF 1957!

Okay, why do I have this? It's the bygone design, of course. The clock is ordinary. The room, and its color scheme, is interesting - simply because that's the way things used to be.

Mahogany-color case. Meaning, plastic.

The Enhancer, eh? Wait until the plastic enclosure turns cloudy.

But I'd love to find one in a thrift store. I'd bet it still works.

Not everything was sleek and modern. They never managed to get plaid out of their system.

There you have it! The Clocks of 1957!

What's that, you say? The Clocks just whetted your appetite for more? Well, that's good - because here comes THE SHEETS OF 1957!

Cannon Percale, baby - just the thing for your modern bed with its impossibly pointy legs. Sit in your butterfly chair and look at the sea.

If you're not the modern sort, consider this quilted headboard. . .

. . . already shiny so your greasy head won't spoil it.

Jaws of Life requred to get into bed.

Testing, testing . . . no, the bed is still made of marble:

"I built this office so I could give two people Freudian therapy at the same time. It's good for doing couples."

There you go! THE SHEETS OF 1957! What more can I possibly pull out of the WHATEVER folder?

THE FLOORS OF 1957!

It says it's an attic, but it looks like a basement. Where the teens would go. And take off their shoes and dance. Coca-cola would be spilled. The lights would go out after a while.

Mad at wood? Cover it up:

That's Veltone marbleization you're looking at: literally hides footmarks.

Now this is a basement. I don't meant that in the sense of "now THIS is a basement!" I just mean this is a basement.

No one will play that game. No one knows what the game even is.

Bored? Put all the colors together, then mix them up again.

There you go: 1957. Sixty years ago. Looks okay, though. See anything you like?

Well, that's what we'll be doing, Hiatus-wise. Emptying out the old folders, getting stuff FINALLY posted so I can stop carrying it around. . Remember, the Bleat Index has the links. You could eat them all up today.

Why would you do that.

By the way, don't worry: if there's any news - you know, the sort of news that means the long sad story of August has a happy ending - it'll be right at the top of the page.

We're still hunting.