There are two subversive forces at work in the apartment complex I live in (three, if you count the mailman). The first of these is a cat I cannot curse at enough. Sarah has claimed that one of these days, Chester (as she has christened him) will be living with us, and I have said in no uncertain terms that we will have had to have death-matched and I’ll have to have lost for that to have come to be.
(Please note in the most previous sentence to this, I used “had,” “has” twice, and “have” a ridiculous six times. I’m not proud, but point it out and I’d like to invite you to come stare at my high-falutin’ writing degree sometime. So just shut yer yap!) Continue reading