Sunshine is sick. He has been laying around complaining of chest congestion and body aches for days now. I finally got him to get off his ass and take a shower. While the shower probably isn't going to make him better, he will certainly look less greasy when he goes to the doctor tomorrow. I told him he has no choice: if he isn't feeling better tomorrow, off to the doctor he goes (and I will be able to tell if he feels better or is just lying to avoid the trip to the doctor).
The dog is throwing a shit stomping fit because she doesn't like what is in her food bowl. I cook for the little fucking shit every night, so it isn't like she is fucking deprived. I'm not going to start cooking chicken in the middle of the afternoon just because she is acting a donkey. She nosed around in her food bowl and decided she didn't like the dry food it contained, so she began shoving the bowl around, flinging bits of food around the kitchen and knocking over her water bowl while she was at it.
If one more thing starts acting janky around here, I'm going to throw a fit of my own. My fits? Generally involve new shoes, yo. Again already? Sure. Why the hell not.
Now, let me go clean up this mess the dog made and do something about the mound of meds and blankets in the living room. After that, I get to clean the bathroom since Sunshine apparently doesn't know how to rinse out the sink after he shaves.
Time out for more fun, right?