The postillion was struck by lightning

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The picture above? Before my cat went on a rampage of naughtiness and knocked over my coffee this morning. There was only two tablespoons of coffee in my cup, and he somehow managed to spread that across my pattern-a-day knitting calendar, a stack of papers on the floor that the collar was on, my Spanish magnetic poetry, and the wall. Nor to mention my desk chair, the filing cabinet next to my desk, and the beige carpet. Of course, this was also the day that Mom left only half a cup of coffee in the pot, and I didn't want to brew another pot when I'd drink only one cup, so I mixed a packet of hot cocoa and milk into my coffee. That's right -- chocolate AND coffee stains.

The mayhem:



Fortunately, I was able to scrub the coffee/chocolate off the wall with a Magic Eraser. They really ARE magic. It also blotted out of the carpet without scrubbing, and wiped off my desk chair. The papers were a loss, of course, as they received the brunt of the blow. The magnetic poetry I ended up rinsing in the colander in hot water and letting drip dry. It seems unharmed.

As for the knitting, I threaded a lifeline through the stitches on the needle and cut the working thread. Then I rinsed it in the sink, which made most of the coffee come out. I filled the sink up with warm water and a few tablespoons of Era, swished it around, and let it soak for thirty minutes. Everything was gone when I rinsed the soap out, but it's going to be a while before it's dry again. I've no idea how I'm going to wash the thread. I suppose I could just knit it as it is and wash the piece when it's done, but UGH. I don't really want to skein it either, because it's crochet cotton on a spool, and that would be seriously unfun.

This does, however, seriously push me towards using this for a Miss Havisham costume, which I've been thinking about making since I read Jasper Fforde's Lost in a Good Book. I wanna be a fierce old lady who pushes over people at book sales!

The kitty spent an hour in the basement for his misbehavior. It was hardly a trial -- that's where his food and litter box are, along with all the toys he hides down there. But he hates being cut off from the family and he knew he was in trouble. At least, I hope so. I gave him a lecture, which I'm pretty sure he didn't listen to. Or understand.