Oh, for the love of ...

So, for those of you living under a rock, the mid-west was blasted with an ice storm in December. After a week with no electricity or heat, I had four angry cats, four hyper Labs, and one Yorkie-cicle; two broken windows, one crushed fence, one bent weather head, and a useless and dented shed. I also have a tree in my living room.

Not the whole tree. A 7-foot long forked limb sticks up out of the roof of my house, giving passers-by the peace sign. I'm getting ready to saw off one limb, so it can express my true feelings. On the inside, the poky bastard jammed through my pristine cream-colored plaster to hang and drip above my built-in books-and-sundries shelves. Just in time for Christmas!

Anyhoo, after convincing my friends that hanging Christmas ornaments from it might actually cause me to have a psychotic break, I set about getting estimates on having repairs done. Yeah. I'm still getting estimates. The tree crashed my party on 10-December. Anybody care to look at a calendar? No? THAT WAS 63 DAYS AGO.

Now, Babylove has RSV. This is an ugly thing to have. You can read about it here. The mere idea of having it has made me wary of going home in the evenings. Not to mention overly crabby and confrontational, because she's too sick to do anything. And I do mean anything.

Vixon went to her new home. She went to live with a nice man who has a new house and a 2-year-old Chocolate Lab named Riley. She barely noticed when we left. *SOB* Now we have Buster, a 100-lb Dudley yellow male who is heart-worm positive. Buster also has some emotional issued to work through, as he was obviously abused at some point. Bastards.

I think I'll go have a nap now. What with Babylove's coughing keeping anyone from getting a good night's sleep.