I did believe all these old men were swimming to Russia from my house so they could spy, I just didn't believe my dad really had anything to do with it. He went inside and sat in front of the T.V.
I noticed there was a single turd on the living room floor. I was shocked. Barney had never done this; he was very good about letting me know when he had to go out. I brought him over to show it to him and correct him but when he got near it; he snapped it up and ate it. I realized it wasn't his since he wouldn't eat his own. I felt bad that I had thought it was Barney.
I made my way down to the laundry room where the litter boxes for my father's cats were kept to see if they were full. They weren't, but there wasn't any litter in them either. He had just placed the boxes on the ground and didn't even bother to put litter in them. This explains why one of the cats decided to use the living room floor.
Then I woke.
I know this is two entries in a row that contain poop. It seems to be a theme right now. Some artists go through a "Blue Phase" or a "Cubism Phase" apparently as a journaler I am going through "Feces Phase"