The Answer is Yes

“Do you need to stand exactly where I’m trying to vacuum?”  Yes, I do.

Irene booked her flight, which is excellent.  But then as usual it all comes crashing down when my bath is a day late, exactly one day after I run into my Mr. Darcy at the park.  I still have mange simulation holes from The Furminator Incident, which, combined with being not quite a Breck Girl, contributed to him blowing me off yet again.  I am undaunted but you must admit, that’s terrifically bad luck.  Then yesterday morning, Cesar Chavez appears on the deck.  Literally on my deck.  While I am out there.  I nearly had him but he did an impressive action movie leap and made it to the roof. Meanwhile they’re sipping mimosas or something rather than building me a scaffold. And she wails about me impacting her convenience.

The new dog across the street has chow-ish elements but the staff over there apparently don’t know how to use scissors.  He has overgrown feet of unparalleled hideousness. And a nylon leash.  It could very well be a crack house.

Dr. Anne comes tomorrow to check my systems, and not a minute too soon.  I am slightly itchy, likely from chronic stress.  I don’t know when the nightmare will ever stop, perhaps never.  And yet I continue to attempt to communicate the obvious: There.  Is.  No.  Way.  To.  Disguise.  Vegetables.  In.  My.  Eggs.  Why.  Do.  You.  Keep.  Trying.

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