Two more months, though, and that's the last of it.

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Yesterday, the caretaker showed up bright and early (without warning, natch), and hauled our ex-kitchen cabinet away, along with the detached door and various bits of hinge and shards of wood.

I was delighted with his thoughtfulness, as I had resigned myself to having to look at the damn thing for the rest of the week, or however long it will take for the new one to get here. So I unrolled the carpet, did some vacuuming and so forth, and revelled in the knowlege that our apartment was getting back to normal, provided you don't look in the kitchen, which is still something of a disaster zone.

I needed to run some errands a couple hours later, opened the front door and-- lo and behold!-- there's the cabinet and all its bits, sitting in the hallway just outside our apartment.

In fact, it's still there, confronting me every time I leave the apartment, every time I step out of the elevator, and every time I take out the trash. I have no idea what our neighbors think, but they cannot be any less pleased than I.

I'm thinking of starting a Cabinet Removal Pool. Might as well create some sort of enjoyment out of the situation.

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We went out last night. For a "while". Which would have been limited to an actual while had we not started playing darts with a pair of golfing Irishmen. They were hilarious, but not at all nice for one's liver. Surprisingly, I felt just fine when I got up this morning, even though the alarm went off at quarter after six. (I only hit the snooze twice. Progress!)

And now we are off to the pub, once again. In all honesty, we do NOT want to go to the pub. However, we are going karting this weekend and there are forms! That need to be filled out! And signed! And, I dunno, stuff, so we need to meet a friend who is apparently, once again, completely wired on Coca-Cola. (He drank so much cola last night that he was up until five this morning, no doubt bouncing off the walls.)