It’s an inopportune time that you’ve come to my door, as I’m making mud pies and my hair’s in curlers. 

Regardless…enter. 
I’m in the middle of a daydream and I may need your help. 

It’s recurring, with stories, songs or poems and from time to time virtues or myths. 

At present a fable, my friend, of a man with sometimes paint on his always groomed hands….