Kerthunk

Ralph is one of those cats about whom it has been said that if the world was flat, he'd knock everything on it over the edge.  Celeste is not so inclined, but Ralph can't help himself.  I hear plops and kerthunks daily, and even if I don't hear them, I find the results in nearly every room.  Pencils, pieces of paper, lids I forgot to put back on, you name it.  If it's not nailed down, over it goes.  Anything that rolls is best, but he doesn't discriminate.  There is a small ceramic swan in the guest room that used to be filled with potpourri, "used to" being the definitive term here.  Luckily, the swan, now empty, didn't break when it hit the floor.  It's very much like living with a three-year-old child, a redheaded one, at that (no offense to the gingers of the world).

Cam doesn't have a TV and now her computer has gone wonky.  She's been calling in the morning to get a weather report so she could plan her workday.  She won't need to call today because it started raining after dark last night and it's still raining.  Oh goody.