Shitty house I used to live in

Ach.

Well, this week I am house-sitting and cat-sitting for my mom and dad while they are on vacation ...... which I have done for the last few years ... and, as usual, it's turning out to be one of the more trying weeks of the year. The main reason being that this house, the little house I grew up in, should have been demolished a long time ago. It's a ... forgive me for saying ... a decrepit shithole. Granted, it has central air, which is nice, but the plumbing stinks, and what the fuck is up with this dial-up Internet connection? It's ridiculous. I can't even get 56.6 ... I'm at something prehistoric and inhuman like 34.6 kbps here. And the kitchen just pisses me off. When I try to use it to do something really reckless like, I dunno, make dinner, I start to wonder where is Ashton Kutcher and where's his hidden cameras (or Alan Funt or substitute more timely personality, if any), because it feels like somebody's playing a practical joke on me. Pans -- crappy aluminum ones, too (woe upon the wretched fool who wants to cook something tomato-based in this house) -- falling out of every cranny, moldy potatoes nestled in every nook. I think there is food being stored here that dates back to the late 1960s. In fact, I think the majority of food being stored here dates back to the late 1960s. Which makes sense, because I think it would be easier to prepare a meal in an Apollo space capsule than in my mom's kitchen, which has approximately negative-two-feet of available workspace. AND an electric range. Feh!

I like the central air, though. And they have a scanner now, so maybe I'll post some baby pix later on this week, if I'm feeling particularly narcissistic.