bigger than it is

I had a feeling Fab was getting weirded out about something lately but I didn't know what. It seems he wanted me to tidy up the place a bit. When I came downstairs this morning, the kitchen and living room were bedecked with an artful array of my dishes. Arranged in graceful curves, he stretched cups, bowls, plates, and the occasional pan in unavoidable arcs I would have to step over to go anywhere. I opened the bathroom door and knocked over a pot placed behind the door. I turned on the lightswitch and a colander nearly took my head off: he had set the overhead fan on high speed and placed it on top of a fan blade. When I hit the switch, it came crashing down.

OK. I get it.

I saw him in combinatorics and told him that I liked what he'd done with the place but that for future reference, he could just ask me to clean up.