this fucking house

Carlin successfully dropped off at the lizard-sitter, medication supplies for the trip mostly sorted, bills payed, hold put on mail.

I had planned to do my packing tonight. Then this morning I found mouse poop on the kitchen counter. You know, where I PREPARE MY FUCKING FOOD.

I swear to all the Gods, the next time I'm bitching about my house and somebody says, "lower your standards" or "your friends don't care what your house looks like," I am throwing fucking mouse shit at them.