[My Attorney] is away for three weeks on an all expense paid cruise on the fourth floor of a Motel 6 in D.C. along with nine million other lawyers all trying to prove a very complicated version of "nuh uh." They're working, literally, around the clock, sleeping in shifts, surviving on nothing but sirloin and pinot noir (domestic—the cruelty!). Meanwhile, back at the ranch, I'm working so hard I can barely . . . . zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.Oh my god I am on a titanic laze. I haven't gotten out of my chair for four days. I'm surrounded by spent cheetoes bags and pizza boxes. The kids are surviving on Ramen noodles and canned corn. I'm managing to keep them on schedule. They're taking showers but they're drying off with old t-shirts and handfuls of dirty socks.
It. Is. Awesome.
Or it was. Until we discovered [something horrible] and I had to pry myself off the chair to call Orkin. Suddenly it occurred to me that a stranger was going to enter my lair and I looked around at the piles of dog hair and chicken bone chains and threw up. The I went ape shit on the house. I cleaned everything. I cleaned under the lazy susan. You know, in case this guy walks in and says "I need to look under your lazy susan in case there's [something horrible] under there. Under the lazy susan."
