Joyously Prolific

The Lost (Wax) Morning

There are certain times when one should just cover up one's head and not come out. I've long held the feeling that morning in general is one of those times. Today proved me right.

Russ had a doctor's appointment this morning. He also needed to take Cricket back to the vet for her check up. He could not catch her, so he went on to his appointment. His hand appears to be fine, but it took two long hours there, and he came home in not a great mood. This was about 11am. At this point he came into the bedroom and woke me up. Not a good thing under any circumstances. Then he asked how I was feeling and if I should got to the doctor.

My immediate answer was no, no. NO. He tried to ask me questions. I was less than coherent and rather growly.

He left the room. And I heard a thunk and a curse and knew what had happened.

I like candles, but I can't burn them. I forget them, the cats are dangerous, etc. So sometimes, just to get the scent, I sit them on the floor vents...

Russ kicked it. Wax splattered straight up the wall and across the floor.

I went and got Cricket and shoved her in the cage and sent him on to the vet with her. Then I began scrapping wax off of everything.

Let me tell you about this particular wall. It's covered with a lovely small print of beige flowers an off white swirls. Subtly raised flowers and swirls. I spent the next two hours scrapping green wax off of beige flowers and white swirls. And oak woodwork. And the venetion blind and window underneath it.

Oh, and the floor. The off white floor with subtly inlaid beige flowers...

I have discovered why I hate craftwork. I hate sitting there doing that kind of repetitious work. I would, truly, rather be writing. Though it did give me a better feel for the work that archaeologists do. (Let's scrape this little bit off! Oh wow, look! More little beige flowers! Isn't that wonderful?)

I fear there shall be subtle hints of green on the wall and the floor for a long time. Oh, and did I mention that this is scented wax? Or that it melted all over the power supply for the answering machine and it's now making an odd whistling noise?

Oh, and the vet wasn't in, by the way. So Cricket came home, very pissed at having had to go for a ride...

Is there a reason for mornings?