...Nah, still doesn't outrank washing a freshly-skunked cat. Though he and I have had a few more rounds about whether my blood should be inside or outside in the struggle to medicate him than we ever did in the skunk incident.
Today, we settled on an excellent compromise - I doze in a chair, and I get a lapfull of purring fur that drains all the tension out of me. I move, I get told to let him out (not a chance, when he's still healing). I medicate him, I get told I'm a dirty rotten no-good scoundrel, and he wants nothing further to do with me. Cash on the table says we have the exact same negotiation tomorrow.
I love that little ball of obstinacy.
PS - apologies for the mostly-broken state of the free ice cream machine; work is running me flat-out right now. I'll be back in January, when year-end is over and things trend more toward sane.