Came home, determined that the office people were no longer in the office and therefore I should leave a note, which I shall do this morning, and then went on a massive cleaning spree, interspersed with computer stuff and supper. Called places about Hermione-cat. Vacuumed. Took a reasonably large bag of stuff down to the laundry room.
Today I learned (I'm not sure if it was for the first time or not) that no matter how well someone gets along with me, energy-wise, things still don't work out well if I'm strung the hell out and having my professional face on and they touch me with great sympathy. The effect is sort of like unexpected light socketing with a nice wet hand. (One of the very few people to actually get away with something like this is Darkside, because he knows how to somehow match the note that my soul sings. That makes it so that I can barely tell that it's him and not me, sometimes. For every rule, there is an exception. He is it for many.)
We need kitty litter. I need to refuel before work. We need to stop by the Temple of Doom after work; the one right by work works, right? Good timing there; beat the horrible worst of the rush.