“It smells in here…” Too long, too long. So smudge, and smudge again. Light the stump of that bundle of white sage we bought years ago. Stuff lasts forever, you know. Took me a long time to work out how to light it over the gas burner and extinguish it in the sink. Now sacred sage smoke in all the rooms as I walk around holding a plate underneath so the ashes and bits of charred leaves from the disintegrating sacrament don’t burn the carpet. Johnny’s off the hook, I realize. Three days off to practice saying that and then we roll away the stone.