Well darlings, I am happy to say that my dog has officially destroyed my home. I no longer need to worry about when it will happen, how to prevent it, why she would do such a thing... Perhaps she is in league with the cat, for not only were the hundreds of CDs I had on the coffee table (I was uploading new faves to iTunes...) now shattered, but also the wine glasses I had in my open (whoops) cupboard. Dratz and drown the rats, at least now it's over.
She was happy to see me, though. Until I made rage-face--she then darted under the table, with the glittering tangible bits of songs I wish I knew by heart, because now I will never hear them in CD form. Thankfully I have the CD of Robert Pattinson on the Twilight soundtrack unopened (it's a gift).
But how does demolishing your music equal destroying a house, you ask? Because it was not simply a stack of songs she ruined, but also the sheets. The rug, shredded back into it's pre-rug form--rags. Books. Books. Pages of books lieing in piles. The Bennet sisters greet Bella from Twilight as she zooms toward Phoenix. Wordsworth's Prelude is lost amongst Wadsworth's prose. Henry James enjoys the view of Dorian's disfigured face....Alas. My animals are anti-art. Good thing my paintings are prints...
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