Day 1170

You can't write stuff this good.

You knew It would lose It's mind when It saw the den. Of course It did. Now think, there's really no difference between the strength of emotion between seeing my things moved back in, or if I'd been caught in flagrante delicto. You'd think something of importance happened. This Bitch really went off. "You're such a LIAR. L-I-A-R,"  "you need THERAPY..." amazing. Guess I don't have a right to put stuff in my house.

But wait, it got better!

I, of course, left, when I returned, It was gone. However, the damage was done. My stuff was again vandalized, and stickit notes were affixed to everything in the fridge, i.e. "do not touch, Keith's dinner Monday..." Amazing. Can you imagine I'd actually have the nerve to eat something from the fridge in my house. Call the lawyers!!! AND, after all the manufcatured psychosis, did he even touch any of the aforementioned, stickitnoted food? Of course not. It was merely staking out Its territory. Amazing.

So, thankfully, this am no rain. Got my miles. I'm good!!!!!

***and why stickit notes? It hasn't slept in Toxichouse for days (GREAT parenting eh?????? Child being raised as a latchkey kid). It's latest concept of "work" is caring for some old person.