stressedAt 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.
