When the cat alarm went off this morning, I was having tea with Peter Wimsey, the ghost of his grandmother (or possibly the Dowager from Downton Abbey; it looked like Maggie Smith, which I suppose is not incompatible with being Peter Wimsey’s grandmother), and a former student of mine who is devoted to historical reenactment and was most fetchingly and appropriately dressed for the occasion.
The cat alarm said that the squirt bottle was not an appropriate way to activate the snooze function, and would in fact result in escalating the alarm noise.
I really wanted to go on with that dream. I’ve never before had tea with Peter Wimsey, let alone his grandmother, corporeal or otherwise. And there were other people present to whom I had not yet been introduced. Could one of them have been Harriet Vane? Or Peter’s mother, the enchanting Dowager Duchess? And I hadn’t even started on the petits fours.