Somewhere along here I finished listening to The Odyssey. It was a lot less exciting this time than it was 22 years ago. I look forward to The Iliad, though.
We began work on the kitchen again. Washing the previous kitchen rugs, which we weren't overly fond of but which would protect the newly finished floors, wasn't such a hot idea. They disintegrated, leaving behind quite a tide of filth in the washer. We acquired more drawer organizers and other even less exciting things and brought two boxes of stuff to Goodwill. We removed cabinet doors and scrim so we could paint walls, caulked around this and that, regrouted here and there, planned how to build a switchplate that would fit around the misplaced electric boxes by the sink, and refitted the soap dispenser. I--note the more accurate pronoun--put another coat on the pantry doors.
Blake is moulting so severely that in 10 minutes, the area surrounding his eight toes looks like Alison Reynholds made a snowfall and then cut her fingernails and emptied a down pillow in place. He's desperate to have his head pet but snappy because I inevitably hurt his blood feathers.