Jasper the Newfoundland got me up at 5:30 am to go out, and when I let him back in and got into bed, I smelled something nasty. So I turned on the lights and discovered--apologies if you're eating--that I'd stepped in cat poo and it was now all over the sheets. So I had the fun fun fun of cleaning everything up in the gray pre-dawn light, changing the sheets, taking a shower, changing into a clean nightgown. And then I couldn't get back to sleep, so I got up and checked my email and surfed a bit before returning to bed.
While I was lying there, cursing both the dog and the cats, I started thinking about White Rose. And I figured out how to extricate Rose from her predicament without it seeming too cheesy. I haven't written the scene yet--it's been a busy day--but I'm about to do that now.
I should thank my cat Vincent (Angel would never have left the litter box with a piece of poo stuck to her fur, but Vincent's a slob). No, actually, I do not intend to thank Vincent for making me clean the damn house at 5:30 in the morning on a Sunday. No matter what the outcome.