Dishwasher too. But damn, I've never had a w/d in any place I've lived (as an adult). And having it right there means I can basically use it as a hamper (my brother's brill suggestion), and for the first time in my life actually have clean clothes on a regular basis. Whoo-hoo!

I am jealous too!

Jesse, are you cleaning? I'm not cleaning, really, outside of doing laundry. I need to fix that.

Brenda, SQUEE! What a gorgeous place! Also, you will love your front-loading washer/dryer more than your last SO. Not that I know who that was, but I do know the love I have for my front-loader is mighty.

Our cats sleep on the bed. Byron sleeps on my pillow most nights. My mom grew up on a farm and didn't have "pets" (as opposed to animals owned for a purpose) until she left home. Now she has the three most spoiled cats in the world. My dad isn't so much a cat person, but he grew up with beloved dogs and now treats his dog better than he treats me. Seriously, the man doesn't come visit me because of his dog. Makes me batty.

Anyway, with an upbringing like that, no way were my animals going to be anything but family.

ETA: No judgment there, just an agreement that its cultural.

Speaking of animals and beds, I'm implementing a new rule:

If you can't be bothered to get up off your damn (dog) bed, it doesn't count as a security threat and you can please shut the hell up with the furious barking. Sheesh.

Today's Daily Puppy

Jesse, are you cleaning? I'm not cleaning, really, outside of doing laundry. I need to fix that.

I'm not doing shit. Maybe soon?

now treats his dog better than he treats me. Seriously, the man doesn't come visit me because of his dog.

When my mom and stepdad go on vacation, they board their dog at a kennel, and they give the kennel *my* phone number as the emergency contact number. Once, my mom called me from vacation to make sure that the kennel hadn't called me with any problems with the dog. Seriously -- the first question was, "Is everything okay with Petey?"

Not too weird for a dog-owner, right? Except that they were on vacation in PARIS. She made an international call to make sure the dog was okay. And there had been nothing wrong with him before they left. So....yeah. I feel you on your dad treating the dog better than he treats you.

I'm not doing shit. Maybe soon?

Me either. I keep thinking I should decide which three things need doing the most, and just do those, but after the laundry, everything else is tied, and decisions are hard.

When I moved to Chicago after being in Milwaukee for a couple of years, my dad - Mr. Non-Communicative - suddenly started calling all the time. Oh, he'd try and dredge up some small talk for me, but it was quite clear who he was actually calling for. If the dog had her own number, I probably would've never heard from him again.