Oh holy shit!

Yeah, emphasis on the shit part. Five piles of it waiting for me when I stepped through the door, courtesy of roommate's cat. Neither me nor my roommate were home at all yesterday. Princess Poop obviously got upset that her human abandoned her. Just imagine the overdramatic voice on those last words there. I walked in the door well after six, luggage on my back and in my arms, my dinner in my hands and get blasted by the odor of a protest poo marathon. And here I was all happy that I figured out how to get my car's audio system to randomize my mp3s while stuck in freeway traffic because I was bored and started pushing buttons.

Thankfully, the refuge of my bedroom is still a refuge, because I insist that the door stays closed while I'm gone. That was just for the Duchess of Dung. Without my voodoo priestess of an itteh bitteh kitteh to keep the intruders at bay, I was discovering unpleasant surprises of fur. Put a stop to that and prevented one room from getting shitbombed. So, now it's scarf down my dinner while it's still warm and the rest of the place is airing out, and steel my gut and nose for the oncoming cleanup assault.