VENTING...ONE, TWO, THREE...

Just a vent. I don't know who said that "A man's home is his castle." Well, my kingdom is in turmoil. The chariot is getting repairs (just under five hundred dollars and I won't get it until tomorrow). The plumber won't be here until next week so the hot water is still running, along with the electric bill. So much for the royal flush. The feral kittens continue to act like Axl Rose off his medication in a newly minted hotel room. One of the other cats is bulimic. I swear he is. How else to explain the hair balls that look like road kill? I'm too depressed to get my lazy butt into proper cleaning mode. I know the neighbours actually look forward to doing the lawn. I don't put down weed kill, which means dandelions. If the cold ever stops, they will grow. I suppose one day they will storm the house, like the peasants in Frankenstein stormed the castle, with torches ablaze. They will be in a frenzy over the fluffy things on the dandelions. They will want to prevent the spread of the evil monster and will thus burn the castle. Heaven forbid, those fluffies take to the wind.