If a cow ever got the chance...

I trashed Cyril's apartment.

Unintentionally.

He invited me for dinner like the nice person he is--lentils and kasha and feta cheese, all in one dish which somehow worked really well--and warned me to not do anything uncouth like lean my elbows on the table because it was not the most stable of furniture (it is [was] a flippy table that bolted into the wall that he bought at Ikea two years ago), so everything went fine until the end of the meal, when I requested a tupperware thing to take the remainder of my kasha serving home, and kind of forgot and rested my large and unkempt self on the tupperware lid (which was on the table of course) to get it to lock, and the whole table just FUCKING DISINTEGRATED, wallboard and spackle and wine bottle and two (really nice) wine glasses and tupperware and particleboard table went flying across the apartment, and the shatterables did their thing, into nail-sized shards that Cyril will be picking out of the carpet until he moves. He could not have been nicer or more gentlemanly about the whole thing, but I think I owe him new wine glasses at the very least.

Gah. I can't take myself anywhere.

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