Ron busied himself cleaning the kitchen, and in particular around the cat. It used to be that he would find somewhere else for the cat to rest while he sorted things out, but like all good intentions the plan hadn’t long survived the pragmatic requirements of the situation.
He whistled quietly while he wiped the counter clear of oil spills and stray cat hairs. Food debris such as rice and vegetable fragments were less of a concern, at least in this part of the room. He glanced at the cooking surfaces and recoiled from the thought of the grease spatters on the tiles behind the hobs. Spots and streaks from fry-ups and bubbling pans alike had contributed to the multicolour stains there. From there he looked back at his feline companion. The cat stared back at him impassively, but that was no surprise.
There wasn’t a surface that didn’t need some kind of attention in the room, but then again it was a very small room, with just enough space to fit the hob, a sink and two and a half small counter spaces – one of which was dominated by a microwave. There was stuff plugged in everywhere, which made the use of new bits of equipment an exercise in logistics half the time.
At least he had his cat. That was mobile when it had a mind to be. As if prompted by the thought, it’s eyes lit up and it looked round at him. It purred and he reached over to scratch between it’s ears before disconnecting it from the charger. Time to plug his phone in. At least they used the same adapter.