ast week you may (or may not) have gleaned that your faithful blogist had moved that very day from Webster, NY, to Rochester, NY, about a half an hour drive away. I say “may not” have gleaned this information because while I made a riff on moving, which the characters in Beckett’s play do not do much of, perhaps it was not abundantly clear that I myself, had indeed, perhaps heretically, moved.

It is also nearing the time to talk about the next novel in our series called, No One Is Talking About This, by Patricia Lockwood. Given the moving, my copy of the book wound up somewhere else, introuvable or unfindable. Except that, dear Readers, I found it!

Today, though, in breaking news, our dear Godot has gone awol. He was last seen entering New York City, and perhaps has joined a band with his vibe.

Cinco de mayo may well have enticed our Godot into a Mexican taquería. Where this is what he might have seen.

This lovely woman is advocating the drinking of mescal. She begins this way:

For all the bad things, mescal.
And for all the good things as well.
And if there is no remedy,
A liter and a half.

And this advice got me to thinking, do you think Godot could be a woman?

Reader: Where is Godot again? And his people?

Let me reassure you by way of a story that even though Godot is awol this week, I have confidence he will return. (Or she). Here is the story. Occasionally the dogs at my sister’s house find themselves outside, out on the loose without their leads. Ah, the freedom. Once we humans realize our mistake, we make a move to grab the dog in question, but by then it is too late. He now knows that he is free. And off he goes. He shoots down the backyard like greased lightning. He tours the subdivision at speed, avoiding all attempts to retrieve him, either on foot or in the car. But then, tired of being on the loose, out on his own, he regains the driveway in his own time, and we then scoop him up with immense relief. Similarly, I predict Godot’s imminent return.