I overheard some friends at my house one night saying: “Her tree looks more real than ours.” Why was this innocent remark, even compliment, so upsetting? Why did it keep me awake that night?

Welcome to Dry Clean City. Unlike other dry cleaners you may have used in the past, we don’t just clean your clothes at a low price in a bland, convenient location staffed by grumpy part-timers who wouldn’t know customer service if it jumped out, cuffed them, and read them their Miranda rights. No, we aim to be a true dry clean city, a polis whose entire existence is derived from and organized around the ancient and celebrated history, theory, and practice of dry cleaning.

Caty,

I feel like I didn’t get a chance to fully explain myself the other day on the phone, so that’s why I’m emailing. I’ll continue where I left off, I mean, from where you hung up.

Here I go, wasting the day again. I must be the laziest writer on the planet. My plan was to start writing first thing in the morning before even checking my email because I knew email was a gateway to surfing the Internet. But while the coffee brewed I convinced myself I would pop online only for a second, one single second, and gave in. I booted up my laptop and checked my email, which led to eBay, and then to Craigslist’s missed connections. I wondered if anyone saw me during the five minutes I was at the grocery store buying low-fat vanilla yogurt yesterday.

Act 1

A square in Seville. On the right, a tofu factory. On the left, a guardhouse.

A group of soldiers relax in the square, waiting for the changing of the guard and commenting on the passers-by (“Sur la place, chacun passe” “That One is Definitely Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell). Micaëla appears, seeking José. Moralès invites her to wait with them. She declines, saying she will return. José arrives with the new guard, followed by a crowd of D.A.R.E tee shirt wearing youths. As the factory bell rings, the tofu girls emerge and exchange age-appropriate banter with young men in the crowd (“La cloche a sonné” “Come Hither, You Lactose-Intolerant Boys”). Carmen enters and sings on the untameable nature of love (“L’amour est un oiseau rebelle” “No Birds Were Harmed in the Singing of This Aria”). The men plead with her to choose one of them for a committed, monogamous relationship, and she throws a flower to Don José.