Twenty minutes before he had to leave for the bus to come down to Cityville from Cosmopolis for a weekend visit, Starcat shot me an e-mail that read:

I just remembered the thing I forgot!
It's to tell you that we're coming! this weekend! on the bus! tonight! and that I need a place to stay!
I have an air mattress, so I don't have to worry about that...
gotta run

We had three hours to work on the presentation of our apartment. The Palinode did dishes. I moved the boxes that I moved into the hallway when I was rearranging the study into the bedroom where we could pretend for just a little while longer that they don't exist. The Palinode cleaned the bathroom. I finally replaced the lightbulb in the bathroom and removed the floor lamp that we'd been using while I screwed up the nerve to stand on something high enough to reach the light fixture. In short, we did our best to appear more like grown-up partners in life rather than a couple of myopic bachelors.

Okay, I've lost track. I didn't mean to go there. There being my domestic disinclination. What I meant to go on about was that Starcat came for a visit, and because I am such a freaking classy host, I spent part of our Saturday together taking pictures of the refrigerator and some things that are in it. I tell you, Starcat had never been so entertained. No really, he got a lot of mileage out of making fun of the entire series of photographs I took of our expired eggs.

No, please, you must calm down. The "Eggsposé" won't come for another day or two. I am so sorry. I should not have mentioned it. For now, you must tide yourself over with images of our fridge magnets. I know that they are a step down from the tour de force which is a photographic series of eggs whose insides have actually begun to dehydrate, but we must move on.

In an attempt to build up tension before the unveiling of the fridge magnets, I bring you an extremely unflattering image of my thighs reflected in a dirty toaster. When choosing reflective options for showing the internet your thighs, which actually look pretty damn fine in your new pair of jeans under the proper circumstances, household appliances do not usually offer up the most pleasing likeness.

my thigh warped in a dirty toaster

Now, and please make sure that you are sitting down:


One of the first gifts that the Palinode ever gave me was a set of magnets portraying different kinds of meat, and this was the pièce de résistance, Mr. Beef Cake. Note that beef and cake are two separate words. He is not a beefcake; he is a cake of beef. By gifts such as this you are able to recognize your one true love.

beefcake magnet

The following Assorted Picture Hanging Set was purchased so that we could properly hang a painting stretched on canvas whose frame is slowly warping. Instead, we have hung our hanging set with a tidy pair of square magnets. You may curse us now for improperly hanging our art. We are cretins.

picture hanging set affixed to the fridge door

My favourite collection of magnets is this small tableau of a bisected fish with three pieces from a Magnetic Poetry set that were left behind by the previous tenant. People go fishing, but fishes go puppying. You best be keeping your fuschnickens away from that koi pond.

fish and lost poetry magnets

As you can see, Starcat was thrilled to the gills with my level of hospitality. Or, at least several pints of beer in the pub made him forget that I had earlier spent an hour of our time together alternately crawling around the apartment on my hands and knees and obsessing over the produce in the refrigerator.

Starcat in the pub

The end.

I'm a little short on narrative. Bloody hell.

Here's some melting snow that looks like an egg! And a bicycle!

bicycle and melting snow

UPDATE: I think it's delightful when we inspire each other. Go see Tintinfisch's post about her fridge magnets. Frankly, I'm jealous of her collection.