The last few days have put expateek in mind of an old joke, from back when she was a kid in Wisconsin.
An old woman lives on the 4th floor of a posh 7-floor apartment building. One morning, the phone rings. She picks up, and she hears a strange voice on the other end of the line.
The viper is coming. I'm on the seventh floor. *Click*
She is slightly alarmed, but decides it's just a wrong number, or some kid playing a prank, and she forgets about it.
The next morning, the phone rings again.
The viper is coming. I'm on the sixth floor. *Click*
Now she's a bit alarmed. The viper? My heavens, what could this be? How did this viper get her phone number? Vipers are poisonous, deadly, with sharp fangs. She's rather worried. But she decides she's being silly, puts it out of her mind, and carries on watering her African violets.
The third morning, the phone rings again.
The viper is coming. I'm on the fifth floor. *Click*
Now she's terrified. Clearly, there's something horrible, a monster, coming nearer and nearer. What to do? She's afraid to leave her apartment, but afraid to stay too. She's paralysed with fear.
On the fourth morning, the doorbell rings.
Should she answer it? After all these awful calls? She moves slowly toward the door, takes a deep breath, and unlatches the door and opens it.
A little old man stands before her, smiling, and says...
I'm da viper! I come to vipe your vindows!
Substitute moving men for viper, and you got expateek's mood....