Mud

I'm still here. And I'm still mudding the bathroom. It turns out I hate this job, and my mother has offered to pay to send me to mudding school if I ever have to do this again, because she said that's cheaper than therapy. I will admit that I've been tracking how much I've spent on rewards to bribe myself to do this; if it's cheaper to hire someone next time, I will. 

My work is made a bit better by my new bathroom construction buddy. His name is Maxwell (aka James Clerk Maxwell, which is pretty much a perfect physicist name) and I have the privilege of taking care of him while my friends S&N&Sons are on vacation. He is enormous fun, and I am reminded why I love kitten-sitting and why I never intend to adopt my own. I'll be eating my dinner, when suddenly he's up on the table with me, trying to help himself. Or I'll read a book in bed, and suddenly he's there attacking my hand as I turn a page. On the other hand, not much beats the cuteness of a kitten falling asleep on your arm.

Unfortunately, Wesley hates the kitten, so my roommate and I have spent the week doing complicated cat-introductions, alternating them in rooms, letting them see each other through a window, etc. I'd like them to be able to share a house, or Wesley will have a tough time when I take a vacation in September and stay with Maxwell.