This was not my fault.

Have you ever suspected that there's an Imp of Mischief?

    As with most catastrophes, this happened very quickly and I take no (or very little) responsibility.

    Celebrating the return of a functioning arm, I prepared a pizza last evening. No big deal there - nothing untoward. However, placing it atop a tray with the approximate dimensions of Coventry, I also armed (geddit?) myself with three plates, a few condiments, the appropriate cutlery and, a mistake perhaps in hindsight, a pizza cutter. One of those with the round blade and a wickedly sharp edge.

    So it was absolutely not my fault that the cat, salivating over the smell, was lurking hopefully to the side but very close to the living room door. And further, it was not my fault that I tripped over it.

   And after all the pizza cutter didn't actually hit the cat but just landed next to it, vibrating slightly as its blade dug deeply into the wooden floor. And it's not as if the cat hasn't gone through the patio window several thousand times before. So it's her fault that she didn't stop to check that it was actually open. 

   From initial impact of the blade, to the cat squawking and taking off at warp three, then rebounding off the glass with an even louder scream of terror and fury before hurtling back and brushing past my legs with an aggrieved swipe of its razor sharp claws, thus upsetting the carefully balanced tray which then fell over my wife before splashing the open jar of chilli sauce all over my daughter, admiring her new purple hair colour, all took about three seconds.

    Now we can't get the stain out of the sofa, my wife, or my daughter. Neither will speak to me, and together we jointly managed to upset the baby next door who'd only only just stopped squealing for six hours following her MMR jab. Neither have we seen the cat who probably managed to bore a hole in the outside wall.

    Talk about a butterfly flapping in the Amazon.