Scruffy and I are unsettled by the machines. They make Scruffy bark, they make me mad, they can see over the fence. My fence! They can watch me back and forth, between big house and small, they can see what I’m snacking on, that my hair is uncombed, that I’m not wearing shirts. It’s discomfiting! I don’t like it one bit.
There’s that and still the ants. You’re bored with the ants, I know, have I mentioned the ants? Ellen, it’s true, has issues with ants, but have I told you about any of mine? The ants have invaded the second floor, they’ve taken it over, I had to retreat. I don’t know how long I can hold them off, I fear for the house. I bet the machines in back can see the ants, why aren’t they helping me, why aren’t they calling for backup? There are a lot of freaking ants!
After Field Day (it starts in 30 minutes) I’ll deal with the ants, I’ll call a guy.
Saturday there was a party, I have pictures. I probably won’t show them to you because they are all good Catholic parents, I’m too busy for scandal. It’s rumored that one punched someone else in the jaw, another stripped off his clothes, three more lost at Blackjack and can’t make their vig.
Ha ha. Scruffy was the monster. He chewed up food and peed on rugs and there was garbage, because of him, strewn all about.
People left several things. Some left coats, some left furniture, there was also car keys a car and a purse. They can all be reclaimed in the lobby for a small-to-medium fee.
I have work to do now. Send me peaches.