Right now I feel like joining Suzanne under the bed. My apartment building is being prepared for painting. There are men with ladders and hoses, pressure cleaning the outside walls. Then they're using hissing
bottles to caulk cracks in the wood, hammering loose boards and spraying smelly primer all over. I hate it.Why can't they shove
on some paint and go?
Then Mommy's been working more hours. I know she needs the money,but I miss her.I'm used to constantly being petted and talked to. She says the rush at the library willend soon. I hope