It never fails: I write a throwaway post to assuage my conscience, complete with adorable dogs, and Nick provides me with far better blogging fodder two minutes later:
NICK: Aaaaaaaah! (Accompanying clattering noises)
ME: What? What the hell just happened?
NICK: I dropped stuff.
ME (wandering out into the kitchen): Well, that happens all the . . . oh.
ME: Well, yes, that is quite the mess. How did you manage that?
NICK: I was trying to get the mortar and pestle, so I can grind these spices.
ME: I would have just used the blender.
NICK: All that fuss and bother, just to do what God invented the mortar and pestle to do.
ME: God invented the mortar and pestle?
NICK: Well, my theology might be shaky, but my intentions were good.
So, I suppose that the fact that I have angel-hair pasta scattered the length and breadth of my kitchen is evidence that someone moves in mysterious ways.