We are two days out from "The Great Fire of 2010," which of course was not nearly as bad as Lyanna's Fire of 2008. It also isn't as funny as The Great Flood of 2005 was after the fact. It's just a huge inconvenience that has Pete and I living only in our bedroom with the two cats, who can't go downstairs until the insurance people are done doing their thing.

Peter's quick thinking to go buy 8 box fans probably saved our place from more smoke damage. While the fire wasn't bad, the kettle was plastic, and plastic is toxic when it burns and creates a terrible smell. I think that the smell is mostly gone, but since we haven't been able to clean up the fire extinguisher residue I'm not sure if what I'm smelling is that or plastic.

Here is what the stove looks like:

Here is the now infamous tea kettle that was on that back burner:

Every crisis comes with its battle wounds, and this one is no exception. But my battle comes from Finnegan, our dear, sweet little Devon.

I've told people how an old friend of mine warned me that CATS CAN SUCK OUT YOUR SOUL WHILE YOU SLEEP! Finnegan would never attempt that, he's too cute. But I have the good fortune of replacing his mother. This means that every night, he plants himself on my stomach, and kneads my face and neck. Sometimes this means that he also tries to nibble on my face, or that he bites my face. It's all part of a bedtime ritual in which I talk to him until he settles down and we can both go to sleep.

The night of the fire he was so distressed that he wouldn't let me go to sleep. He kept kneading my neck and wouldn't settle down. And so, I woke up with a nice little scratch under my eye. All because my poor cat was so freaked out he tried to suck out my soul while I was sleeping, just like I was warned. Or, like my work friends say, my cat gave me a hickey. Your pick!