As I was just about to melt down, one of the cats hopped up on the printer to see what I was doing, and planted a paw on the clear-printer button, which, since there was no job being printed, sent it into an ink nozzle cleaning cycle and dropped my available ink levels another notch.
Much is made clear.
I jury-rigged a chunk of cardboard over the control panel on a duct-tape hinge, ruining the sleek lines of Mr. Printy II, but hopefully preserving my ink cartridges for the near future.
And then there was the silverware...
Kevin has fairly standard subdued silver silverware. Mine have bright turquoise handles, because my ex-husband had always been sort of chromatically conservative, so after I moved out, I went psycho with the random colors whenever possible.* We hadn't really planned on consolidating silverware, but then we didn't do quite as many dishes as we should have, and the turquoise were pressed into service.
The end result of this was that I pulled open the drawer today, gazed in, and said "Kevin, we have a racially mixed cutlery drawer."
"Well," said Kevin reasonably, "you can't keep them segregated forever. Eventually they intermarry and gain acceptance through forced busing."
He claims that truly vile pun was unintentional, but I have my suspicions.
*Other relics of this era incluse hot pink towels, a bright red couch, and a dishwasher-safe rainbow of Fiestaware.