EB: hey, i'm out on the balcony now. EB: i am messaging from my dad's pda. TT: The one you threw into the yard? EB: no, i am telling you. EB: it jumped out of my sylladex like a frightened weasel. TT: What were you doing with it in the first place? TT: I am not sensing a lot of regard for the personal property of others. TT: Is this how your pent-up frustration with your father manifests itself? EB: what? no. EB: those were all accidents. EB: please take your psycho-babblery elsewhere, miss! TT: Your bathroom is a mess. TT: Did you do that too? EB: oh man, see this isn't cool. EB: all this snooping nonsense! TT: There's a cake in the toilet. EB: yes. there is. TT: I'm tempted to clean it up for you. EB: ok, if that will satisfy your weird ocd complex then go ahead. TT: My Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder complex? TT: Can a disorder also be a complex? EB: in your case, probably! TT: Sounds complicated. EB: anyway... EB: i am going to have a look at this enormous platformy thing you put on the balcony.