I had to make the cat disappear today in preparation for my landlady's visit tomorrow. She's refinancing, so she needs to let an appraiser come in, and she and I can get a chance to meet. It's just that I never told her about the cat. So:

Cricket is boarding at the cat hotel. Her dishes are clean and in the drying rack awaiting transfer to secure location (say, dresser drawer). The litter box is clean and in a garbage bag awaiting transfer to my car along with the cat bed in another garbage bag. The cat food is hidden and the whole apartment is vacuumed. All that's left is to hide the cat tree by the freight elevator tomorrow after trash pick-up.

Damn, I'm good.

While I was cleaning and being generally productive, I put my PEACE letters on the wide moulding ledge above the door. The letters are about a foot tall and an inch thick, and they're made of some lightweight metal with a dusty feel to it. Not heavy, but the edges are sharp.

With that in mind, I secured the letters with a weird plastic adhesive called Plasti-Tac®. It's like a cross between Silly Putty and C4. Pull it apart like taffy, roll it into a ball, put it between the surfaces you want adhered and press. It peels off pretty easily when you want to take it down. Or so it says. We'll see.

I was up on the ladder and just letting go of the last E when the A fell. It toppled forward and fell off the ledge upside down. I ducked aside and it whistled past my head and bounced off the ladder with a clang. When I climbed down to get it, I looked up at the ledge and thought, "That would have hurt."

I refastened all of the letters. But I'm scared of my doorway now. I sort of lunge through it with my hands over my head. I'm positive I'm going to get beaned. "Boston Woman Pegged by Piece of Peace."

Actually, with the landlady coming tomorrow, the headline might be a little more complicated. But at least she won't know about the cat. (Famous last words? Tune in tomorrow night.)