Is this -- silence?

I have…er…smote? Smitten? – destroyed, in any case – mine enemy! Mwahaha! Don’t wag your finger at me, Muse, I’m speaking, right now. Oh, I have a seed in my teeth? Thanks. It’s because I have opened the jar of pickles. And I eat the pickles. Om nom nom nom.

…I’m just now realizing how Freudian this all sounds. I have, indeed, made myself blush a most crimson red color. Well. Let’s move on.

I’m scared even to write this.

What if it’s true? I’m scared.

And what if it’s false? I’m scared.

I’m scared, but I’ll say it: I think they’ve finally finished the bathroom remont in my room. Huzzah!

I came home a couple days ago to find a distinct lack of construction tools in my entryway, which now looks sufficiently barren. I remembered the woman painting when I left: “Today you still shouldn’t go into the bathroom.”

Suddenly the Russian construction she used to say “Today…still…” made way more sense.

Then it was the weekend, so I couldn’t test my hypothesis, but today is Monday. And this morning I saw the workers doing remont in other bathrooms. But they didn’t come into my room.

Could it be…could I have…yes? Words, don’t fail me now…