Today was OCD Extravaganza! at la casa de Phil. We're talking 9 in the morning until 6 in the evening of the most insane cleaning frenzy to which I've ever had to bear witness. Much to my surprise, Cruella de Vil didn't so much as point a finger in my direction. She did, however, spend a solid two or three hours cleaning my the guest bathroom. (Before I forget, I feel I must add that we had a most bizarre conversation about the weather. Today was hot and windy, a rather unpleasant combination. "Oh, you're new to California, so you don't know about the weather. This is earthquake weather," Cruella informed me. It occurred to me that she was not, in fact, trying to pull my leg as I suspected. She was dead serious. To which I replied, "Um, ok. Pssshhh." But the nerd in me couldn't resist, of course, getting a perspective or two on the issue.)

Moving on. I arrive back to the house at nearly 11pm (show at the university theater and then hunting for a lost cat that we ended up finding!), and Ms. de Vil comes flying out her bedroom door to ask me if I know some police officer that was supposed to be keeping an eye on us tonight. Nope, don't know him. So we bid one another good night and she leaves the house. Which is totally out of character for her, but whatever.

I adjourn to my room, where I put some music on and relax on my bed for a bit before deciding to post this. And as soon as I finish the first paragraph, I hear the front door open and then close. I hear footsteps making a beeline for the roommate's door, and then I hear pounding and yelling, and two female voices working in perfect discord against one another. Apparently, we've gone from soap opera to Jerry Springer within a mere twenty-four hour period. That's got to be some kind of record.