Salamander
Fire Walking

I should have known better. When I got home yesterday, the dishes from two days ago remained untouched. Dishes in the sink, by the sink, pans on the stove. I decided it wasn't worth saying anything, but that I wasn't going to start dinner until the stuff was washed. Instead I showered, and went into the bedroom to read my new Le Guin for a while. The Prof showed up in the bedroom shortly after I got there, so I was privileged to give him an hour's worth of backrub instead of reading. He fell asleep, and I snuck out and played Snood on my terminal for a while. By the time he woke up and started doing the dishes, it was well after eight, and I wasn't hungry any more. I made him dinner, but I ate nothing myself. I was also annoyed because the kitten knocked over a clay vase that I value highly, and the decorative wheat in it spilled all over the carpet, where it stuck to the fibers like burrs on a horse.

So yes, I was in a mood again. And it didn't help when I woke to the destruction the kitten had wrought overnight. The Prof had left his dinner plate and utensils on the table overnight. The kitten, in an effort to reach them, had pulled one of the placemats off the table, scattered the utensils on the floor, and knocked over the pepper shaker. We push the chairs in as far as possible under the table, so she can't use them as a step ladder, but she can still sit on the chairs and reach up with her paws to try and grab things. She'd been in the trash and scattered a good bit of it around (The Prof got a new CD rack that needed assembling last night so there was a good bit of trash to be had).

Which is another thing. Ten o'clock last night The Prof decides it's time to start hammering his new CD rack together. Ten o'clock! We live in an apartment, and everytime he'd start banging away the neighbor below's Yorkie started off with a yip attack. After the first time that happened, The Prof observed that it was late and he probably shouldn't be hammering. I agreed with him. And then he kept on doing it? Where is this man's head? The neighbors are going to start heaving rotten fruit onto our balcony if he keeps this up.

The worst part is, when I return home tonight, it's all going to still be there, waiting for me.

And I tried called the dentist again just now. They aren't in until 8:00 tomorrow morning. Blast and damn. I can't keep gearing myself up to make the phone call like this. I'm going to end up making myself sick.