Well folks, so far the boy has been gone for an hour. On his way down south for the summer leaving me and the kitties to clean up the dust bunnies that were left behind where his things used to be. So far so good. I think I got most of my breaking down done yesterday at work...which is highly obnoxious I'll have you know. It's always at the worst times that I find myself fighting that stupid lump in the throat. Luckily I have a couple of good guy pals that I can rely on to keep me straight and then a couple of good gal pals to be there when I feel like being an emotional wreck. Which I don't want to be...at all. But just incase.

Now I have to figure out where in the world to start with cleaning up this house. I think laundry first, then the bathroom...etc etc.

Why must that cats know that he's gone for awhile and begin the rampage as soon as he's left?