  Background: Her Highness and her husband are off on an island vacation for the whole week. (and yes, the mistress is with them. Nice, huh? ) Fatty has been recruited to spend the week here and take care of Nasty Pants Grandma. I have resigned myself, since I am not the one who stands to receive a couple hundred dollars for babysitting this week, that I am not going to clean anything this week. I cleaned up on Friday to give a good base going into the week, but you can’t tell now. I was in a very good mood all day.
After my five-day weekend, I was actually glad to get back to work and out of this house. I did a little shopping after work, and decided to pick up something to spruce up the mailbox. I bought flowers, mulch, and spray paint for the mailbox and post. The Issue: I finally walked into the house around 8 p.m. I walked straight past the kitchen with the dishes and food all over the counter and the trash overflowing.
I talked with Fatty, started my computer, played with the dog while waiting for AOL to connect, and then decided to go to the bathroom. First thing I noticed was the puddle of water on the floor with the soggy newspaper right smack in the middle of it. And no toilet paper left on the roll. Oh, and look! Fatty had a bowel movement and clogged the toilet for the 6th time since Friday! Oh joy! While I was busy being disgusted at the idea of having to plunge the toilet and have it overflow onto the floor AGAIN, something caught my eye…my razor was out on the counter, clogged with little red hairs. Shaving cream all over the sink, hairs inside the sink and all over the counter. Son. Of. A.
Bitch!!! But all I could see were the little hairs in my razor. That goddamned motherfucker stole my razor again! AGAIN!! Good God, are you shitting me? I had to come and write this down to try to diffuse some of my anger before confronting Fatty about my razor. I don’t think it worked. I’m actually more fired up now than I was walking out of the bathroom. And I still didn’t fucking pee. Son of a bitch 
