After a long day, we walked in the door this evening to an aroma. A smell. A stench. One of the cats (I'm pretty sure I know which one) had crapped on the rug. Thankfully I saw this before anyone stepped in it and spread it around the house. Cleaned the litter boxes. One of the bags had a hole. Put more litter in the box, and the container of litter snagged my sweater. Life is good somewhere, just not here at the moment. I'd give up except my "Living Language" daily saying for the weekend was "Pourquoi renoncer a se battre?" Why give up fighting. Um. Didn't sign up for the fight in the first place? Don't like to fight? Someone else started it?
Whatevah.
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