And after Odysseus left for work, and the imp got up from his nap, I hear (in giggles), "No, no, no! [Pixie] stop! Momma, [Pixie] won't stop loving on me!"
Cuteness incarnate. The pixie is powerfully affectionate almost all of the time, and the imp...is like a cat. Powerfully affectionate when he wants to be, and very much not when he doesn't want to be. He usually wants to be when it's the most inconvenient (i.e., I'm cooking, or grading, or writing, or trying to eat or use the toilet).
The pixie has had a few accidents in potty training. She's disgusted by them. They don't happen very often--mostly when she's wearing pants that she thinks she can't get down without help.
Lesson learned. She's going to be getting a half a dozen more pairs of sweats.
Last night, after I got the kids to bed, Cricket started playing "The floor is lava"--with the anticipated results. She jumped from the pixie's little chalkboard desk over to the bookcase (with the very cluttered top). Something slid, and hit the wall with a loud bang. And I heard the pixie: "What was dat? Bad kitties?"
So, Cricket spent her evening shut into the utility room.
Shadow lived up to her name and vanished until I fed them just before Odysseus got home from work.
The dog (who we named Merida--after the princess in Brave--or Merry for short), got to fart around in the kitchen for a couple of hours. She ended up sleeping sprawled on her back in the exact center of the kitchen when I went in to check on her. I got her back to her bed with very little trouble.
I'm pretty sure she'd rather be outdoors full time. She doesn't really like being in the house. The only reason she likes being inside is because we are, and even when she's in the room with us, she's trying to get us to go outside with her.
I made a fresh pot of coffee, this morning. Nirvana. The kitchen sink is still being a pain in the ass--draining slow enough that running water and using the sprayer to clean up the coffee grinder and the filter basket lid floods the sink. I'm thinking we're going to take the trap out from under the sink, and dump some of the Drano crystals directly down the drain. Because whatever's clogging the sink is at least fifteen feet down the pipe from the floor. Possibly farther.
So, yesterday, I had my Comp I students brainstorming in groups while I wandered around and lent a hand wherever it was needed (not as many places as you'd think). And then, about fifteen minutes before the end of class...I found several arranging next semester's schedule around being in one of my two Comp II classes.
I've got eighteen hundred words written of the next to last story chapter in Highway to Tartarus. I've got all of the story's high points in my head, but it's been coming out at the rate of a couple hundred words per day. I'm assuming it'll pick up if we can get stuff fixed, and I can get the house cleaned up.