Kitchen apocalypse

Well, I got home and discovered that the kitchen ceiling wasn’t where I’d left it. It’s probably just my getting conventional in my old age, but I can’t help feeling that ceilings are best kept overhead, rather than strewn in large soggy chunks over the countertop and floor.

I walked through the result several times before I could quite convince myself that it was real. It looked rather like something from the set of The Young Ones. I could hear Zack noises faintly from upstairs; he’s the teenage son of our landlord, and I have a sneaking suspicion that he might be somehow involved in the remodelling of our kitchen. If he is, I hope he’s working on a really good excuse. I’m not sure if Michael is the kind of father who goes apeshit; but if he is, I think today might be his day.

I spent the next hour and a half cleaning the ceiling off of the floor, disinfecting everything, and otherwise tidying up. After that, the sweat was literally dripping from me, so I took a shower. In a little while I’ll probably take some pictures of the remaining ceiling tiles, which have some interesting brown bulges that weren’t there before and look somewhat ominous.

I did not lose my temper, rant, rave or scream. I just calmly cleaned everything up.