There's Just No End To It, Is There?

Scentless Buddha

That Person is watching something about a Swedish detective--Wallender or whatever, which is weird because she already read all the books. I thought I'd take this chance to complain. Don't get me wrong--I have a very sunny disposition, really I do. Anyway a few days ago a bunch of Persons from this building got themselves out into what was a perfectly fine yard and began to do horrible things to it. It's called "fixing up the yard". All those lovely patches of mud, gone! Instead there are cedar chips everywhere around the edges and I can tell you they make you awfully sick after you eat enough of them. I'm not allowed in the middle of the yard because of "the grass". Birds and squirrels are allowed, yes. NO AIREDALES!

But I digress: the picture here is something That Person apparently paid good money for. Let me tell you, I was terrified. It sits there chuckling at me, and again, no scent. How much of this world is made up of totally fake stuff? I am so depressed I can hardly bring myself to poop out there anymore. That Person gets all bent out when I take forever in the morning before she's had that beverage. Then she starts going on and on about how when she has to go she just goes and how she doesn't need to eat a pound of cedar chips first (all this is taking place inside her head--but I can hear it). Speaking of those wood chips, I don't really eat all that much. Sometimes I get to gagging and hurking about in the kitchen so she thinks it's all my fault. I think it's that same old food she gives me everyday, except sometimes when there's cottage cheese.

Well, thanks for listening. She's all engrossed in Wallender. She likes the way it was filmed (I wouldn't know about that) and how great the soundtrack is (not a bad soundtrack: reminds a bit of Philip Glass my favorite) and how Kenneth Branagh is all that.