Moss and I are the sole residents of the main house today, figuratively speaking. Everyone else has been consigned to The Doghouse of My Mind:
Ferg – Stealing food once, I’m used to (and even expect, with you), but three times in one day? The crowning touch was how you scarfed it right from Katherine’s cereal bowl while she was trying to eat. Having the nerve to look completely unabashed and wounded when I chased you off somehow makes it worse, fyi.
Katherine – Please note that 4am is not yogurt time.
Wikket – “Move!” does not mean zigzag in front of me while I carry large boxes of breakable Christmas decorations, all the while basically still being in the way. “Move” means teleport to another dimension or at least, to another room!
John – I know you’re still ten at heart, but if you’re going to stay up until 1am watching movies about Irish Cow Zombies, don’t compound your offense by having the nerve to say that you’re tired today. No sympathy.
C’mon Moss. You can have the other side of the bed….