For the first time ever I saw a surge of annoyance darken my woman’s face. Well what I mean to say is: she does get annoyed a lot. Usually with the man, though. Never at ME. It must have been the startling smash of pot on wood that made her jump out of bed and stumble downstairs to survey the scene. Well yes, it was 4.30 in the morning and I know that my slaves don’t like their napping interrupted but it was only a vase for Bast’s sake. Although - I have to admit - its cracking was loud. Do I have a conscience? Nah, not really. I was more surprised than sorry.
Looking at the remains this morning I can see that it could be mended. A spot of glue might restore it to its former glory and then my woman could buy it some flowers as she does for the other vases. Now that’s got me thinking. What sport might be got from knocking over the window vase displaying its bouquet of roses?