  We did not close trhe bank account in time; Marcus put his foot up our asses again by taking the same money he took out before (Kurt's loan) and making us default on our car/insurance payment. On the other hand, if Herr Landlord hadn't 'inadvertantly cashed' out rent check early, well, we wouldn't be in this spot. I've been having violent dreams, where Herr Landlord's head explodes because my hands are squeezing his neck too hard.
I assume I'm not dreaming about Marcus because I can't put a face to the voice. We have opened up our window to let the cats out to play; Lucas has been using it as an escape route while we're out. We narrowly missed having a 200 fine, Lucas became a Dog Running At Large. A man with an 80-year old mama complained, because he is worried that Lucas will knock over his mom. I definitely can't blame him, and I feel like a rat's ass about it. Do you think the guy would apperciate a "I'm immensely sorry" card? I really want to get in touch with him and appoligize, but I'm chicken that he'll freak on me. I was reading the town bi-law on the Dog subject, and this made my blood run cold - Let us say Lucas ran out of the house, just once. During this incident, he ran past that old bird, and knocked her over. I'm not even talking about a 'hi-how-ya-doing-belly-and-bag-tag', I'm talking an inadvertant run-by knockover. According to this bi-law, Lucas would then be considered a 'dangerous animal' and would, no exceptions, be killed. (They say 'destroyed', like he's an old chair or something). I am getting the FUCK out of vegas. I'm now caught with the fear that if Lucas does pull a naughty escape that he'd end up old chaired. I've been anal, he doesn't leave my sight ever once the escape had been discovered, and the animal control person got in touch with me.
But still, the worst case scenario should he escape, and do something as silly as run by someone old too fast, Lucas, my reason for living for six years would be killed. I'm deadly serious here; I don't know what I would be capable of if that were to happen. The bottom line is, though, I'm not going to let it happen.
I love work, I hate onions. Also learning to dislike intensely the smell of grease, although eating it is still hunky dory. And, give me donair meat morning, afternoon and night to eat, and I will be a happy, albeit bloated, camper. Working there has got to be a vegan's worst nightmare. 
