Too late in the day to kill, or too early in the evening to die?

Having spent 8 or 9 hours on Monday dealing with that catastrophe, much of it in the company of CC, I didn't much feel like doing anything yesterday. Today, I still would rather not, but I have some Freudian issues with a washer/dryer in the middle of the kitchen. The workmen are downstairs, but CC said she wanted to be here when they fixed the drywall. I left a message. She hasn't called back.