whatho | Men in the dining room, killing the ceiling.

There are men in the dining room, killing the ceiling. They're hacking all the plaster off in order to put new plaster on or something similarly dissatisfying. Because of all the dust that's going to create, they've taped up the doors. This means we have no access to the kitchen. The kitchen is where the food lives, and also the tea and the apple juice and the milk and my DRUGS and the chocolate and I think I mentioned the tea. My soup's in there and it's due to go off at lunchtime. They shan't be gone by lunchtime. And the bananas. The bananas are also in the kitchen.

I did manage to rescue a cereal bar. I'm a little bit sad about the drugs.

Also, and here's a knotty one, Person X, a superhero of my acquaintance, expressed disbelieving exasperation at my having failed to notice something I apparently should've noticed. I attempted to point out that the exasperated tone made me feel a bit like a stupid child of five (when really I'm a stupid child of twenty-eight) and was rewarded with two or three 'All right!'s in precisely the same exasperated oh-god-I-can't-do-anything-right tone. I don't know how to address the consecutive grievance without provoking further exasperation. Answers on a postcard. I know the obvious answer is 'Let it go'.

I want some tea.