cats in chimneys, or "is this over yet?"

Yes, I know this looks like a Victorian fireplace, and it is. But look closely. See the little stripey hands and pointy face? That's Hermione, the world's smallest tabby and latest inhabitant of my... chimney. That's right, she climbs over the pretty convincing (but cold) fake coals and shimmies right up inside. Can I convey to you how dirty she is after she's done this?

Yes, the cats are home. I cannot adequately explain to you what it was like to get them into a taxi, all of them mewling and yowling (thankfully I had a cat-friendly taxi driver: believe you me, I ascertained this before hiring him for the duration), all of them in their incredibly heavy and bulky kitty prisons. They yowled all the way down the Bayswater Road, all the way through the Shepherd's Bush Roundabout (it's sad that I no longer find that name amusing), and finally home. I dragged them all out to the pavement and then had to pay off the taxi ransom, refusing the driver's half-hearted, "You don't need help, then, miss?" and then dragged them individually through the door of the house and opened the cages. Freedom! Craziness! Chimneys, obscure basement corners, trying to weasel through tiny window openings, all the while meowing like they were being skinned. A VERY LONG DAY. Add to that: I spent the morning reconstructing our 90-piece limestone brick sculpture in which each brick has a specific place, only the codes on the back of each had been worn away in the packing. Grrr! Hours later, hamstring muscles completely shot... and a Sharpie code on the back of EACH!

Now a new wrench: I cannot divulge the details because the secret is not mine to tell (one of my favorite Victorian dramatic phrases), but John is off on a mission to perhaps accept a job. He's in a sandy land far, far away doing lord knows what for the next two days (I certainly have but a sketchy notion of his whereabouts and activities). Why during moving week, you ask? To keep life interesting.

So I am beat. I apologize for the brief, recipe-less post. Tomorrow is even less promising as far as writing time goes, as I have my class in the early afternoon, and then no fewer than four girls from three different families to ferry to the riding stables, home for dinner, and back to their respective homes. OK, OK, one of them is mine, but it makes a better story to say three different families. It will be an insane day among insane days. Wish me luck... And thanks for all the great comments! Yes, the dining room is very cozy, and inviting. I will try to post more house pictures soon. And the dishy antiques guy who delivered the partner's desk? Crushworthy? Perhaps...