I am of the opinion that it is not the responsibility of the laundress to turn socks and other articles of clothing right-side out.

I also believe that a hamper the size of a state park waste receptacle should be really easy to hit. That being the case, there should not be any piles of dirty clothing on the floor.

I have also come to believe that there is not a litterbox made today that is big enough to accommodate three teen-age female cats who are still pooping together approximately 49 times daily. Rubbermaid? A little help here? It’s hard for my girls to bury their poop when all three of them are trying to dig, dig, dig and cover at the same time. Hence the occasional tootsie roll that gets flung out of the box. I hate finding those.

Somehow or other, a bird got into the house the other night and the three cats went insane with joy. I felt bad for the bird, screeching like that for over an hour, but every time I tried to rescue it, I was attacked by three obsessed half-grown kittens who meant business.

Plus, the poor bird kept running underneath the furniture, and our furniture is HEAVY.

Finally, the screeching stopped and the cats came out from under the chair, mission accomplished.

Oh, they didn’t EAT the bird. They just wanted to mess with it. After it was dead, they just walked away and left it there underneath the heavy chair where I couldn’t get to it, and went downstairs for some CheapoChunx.

I seriously considered going to bed and leaving it for morning, but there was something about knowing there was a dead bird in my house that icked me out and I had to take care of it.

So, to get to it, I had to put the ottoman in the chair’s seat and move the weights to the side. Then I had to scoot the bass guitar and the electric guitar and the two banjos out of the path. Then and only then could I get in a position to pull the chair away from the wall. When the bird was exposed, I picked it up with a plastic bag and threw it off the back deck.

I don’t know what kind of bird it was before it was mangled, but it sure did have a looooong, sharp beak. I’m sorry, little birdie, but maybe next time you won’t fly into my house. Except there won’t be a next time, oopsie, what with you being dead now and all.

As for the guy who posted on his blog that I’m a bad person and a terrible teacher, and who also keeps telling me so in my own comments, and claiming he’s been banned for criticizing me, etc, listen up:

You put my link on your blog, sending all kinds of anonymous people here who hit me one swift low blow after another and slunk away, no contact information supplied.

I didn’t put your link here on my blog, but if you don’t stop with the insults, I will. One more insult. One more.

A critique and a string of insults are two different things. It would also help if you read that post carefully and realized its intention.

And just to help you out: When you mean “you are,” you need to put an apostrophe in your contraction. “Your” and “you’re” are two different things, too.

And surprise, I’m not mad at you. Thirty years ago I would have thought the same thing about a teacher who dared to speak up, because I would not have had enough experience to know how it was in most schools. A handful of years in one school isn’t enough to understand, hon.

Carry on. And please don’t put your dirty clothes on the floor beside the hamper, inside-out. Your mom has enough to do.