At least my landlord cleaned up the bits of ceiling that'd found their way into my boots and all over the apartment. He's up on the roof right now doing tar-work, I guess. My dog was howling and crying like he does when he's lonely. I've decided that I now have to keep a fucking muzzle on him as well as leash him to a table. Jesus - what's next, a strait jacket?
My head. My eyes. My stomach. My god.