In search of a lost marble I fell to my hands and knees before the dishwasher.
Something that looked like the mouldering knee of an ancient Babylonian king was looking back at me from the space between the machine's motor panel and the main compartment. Something that had clearly been undisturbed for millennia. Something. . . . baleful.
What to do, what to do?
I backed off, horrifed, to the other end of the kitchen and, feeling behind me, slowly opened the cleaning cupboard. Armed at last with a slender bottle of organic lavender cleaner (perfectly safe on skin and quite delightfully scented), I considered my options.
The best of which appeared to be retreat. So here I am in the basement with my chocolate cache and my loyal whinging television. Have been watching "Rome" for hours now--let's call it RESEARCH in the destruction of Eastern empires. Updates to follow.
Update: In Akkadian, Nabû-kudurri-uṣur is usually interpreted as "O Nebo, defend my kudurru."
*Blink*
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