Today is a great day, too, and considerably less dull. That's because there is a lobster living in my refrigerator (thanks, M.) It's an unaccustomed environment for a lobster, being among celery and apples and cheese and orange juice and assorted bottles of condiments. These things are seldom found on the seabed— mostly only when there has been a riot aboard a cruise ship, and that's a rare event indeed, cruise ship passengers being notoriously prone to not rioting. If cruise ship operators want riots, they ought to have more cruises for students. They have no call to blame me for the placidity of their aged passengers!
Wait, where was I? Oh, the refrigerator. Yes, my automatic garage door quit working. I think something came detached inside the opening mechanism, and I wouldn't know how to reconnect it. A nephew or someone will be coming to look at it. Right now I'm just waiting for Portia to wake up and go outside so I can cook dinner. No way I'm cooking a lobster while the cat is in the house. It's impossible to keep her off the counter under ordinary circumstances. The smell of any sort of seafood drives her wild, and she'd probably try to climb my leg. Safety first.