Where the hell is he?
I put a small amount of flour dust on the inside of the doorknob to his room, to see if he'd been going in and out. Unless he noticed and has been replacing it, he hasn't been here all day. I also got this really small splinter and leaned it against the very bottom of his door so that it would fall over if the door had been open. It's still standing there.
So either he knows about my little tricks, which I guess wouldn't be that hard since they're not that good, or he's camped out at some other house waiting for me to go slowly insane. Téodor likes a neatly wrapped conclusion, he wouldn't let this risotto fiasco end with a non-sequitur kick in the shins and a spray from a seltzer bottle. Or would he?
Anyhow, as I was nervous, I ate three meals out today. It's forcing me to try different places, which is actually rather nice. I discovered this little French cafe that puts together an incredible charcuterie plate, with an incredible couple of housemade pâtés in the middle of a nice selection of cured meats, butter, olives and cornichon. I've got a little set of leftovers, and I put some packing tape around the entire container, and I'm going to check for needle holes before I eat it.