Oh man, the People are not happy right now. Neither am I, frankly. The Owner Lady called them today to say she might have to sell the house, which means the implementation of the M-word all over again. They appreciate that she didn't wait until the last minute and it would be a couple of months at least, but we weren't supposed to have to think about it for 2 years. The Woman says she doesn't even really mind except Uncle Sam is going to want all their money, one of her boobs, and 152 pints of blood before April, and moving while trying to give him all that is just a pain.

And then after they talked to her they decided to put up the Christmas Tree. Apparently there's been a HUGE mouse or a rat (based on the size of the droppings) playing in the storage shed. And the little rodent pooped on everything--the tree, the ornaments, and our stockings--and it peed on the Man's Giant GIVEMEEVERYTHING stocking.

So they got all the poop out of the tree (they think) and cleaned it up, and when they plugged it in (prestrung lights) one of the light thingies was out. So they went out and bought a string of lights and new stockings, and then the Woman sat down and had some chocolate, which is supposed to make everything better.

I think I need to write a new book. That will make them happy, and I can LEND them some Uncle Sam cash. LEND, I said. L.E.N.D. Just so we're clear on that.

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