[There is another groan from Lurch, slowly making his way up to Alice's room with her luggage. Wednesday carefully pours the freshly brewed henbane tea into the cups that Grandmama had set out, remembering the way she and Mother had taught her to pour with grace. Hosting, for an Addams Woman, was an important ritual. A good host, after all, is in the most perfect position. She places the teapot down, handing the cup over to Alice]

The storms are perfectly miserable, they always do seem to inspire Mother. Though so did an English rainstorm, in a different way.

[A pause]

My creative streak does not come in the form of painting.