I was going to ask you to bring me a dust-bunny souvenir! It's been a week, I don't think even Bertie's got the energy to have moved the furniture and dusted under it all again.

( Yet. Either way, it's off to the kitchen, and fiddling with the mugs that are left on the right level for her to figure out if she wants to go kettle or microwave.

... Kettle. Something else deserves a chance to scream around here. She pulls it down off the stove, then maneuvers next to the sink, water masking any other sound for the moment. Once it's on and the burner's turned up high, she rolls back out of the kitchen entrance. )

Jack's sent me a text message. He thinks I'm mad at him.

( Said very, very neutrally. )