(no subject)

My seventeen or possibly eighteen year old dog Nellie died today.

And we buried her.

And then we had to go to the homeless shelter to run everything, because there weren't enough people who'd agreed to help that we could leave it to someone else. This is an ongoing issue.

Back now. Sitting on my brother's bed with the Mikey dog and Ginger, the kitty who isn't sick. I suspect Katrina's sleeping on the dryer. It's currently her favorite place, aside from on one of us. We are, the three of us, keeping my brother company. He's playing Dark Souls. There appear to be giant crossbows involved.

(Also, two of the fish died, my baby brother and his girlfriend got in a car accident, and Mikey made himself sick eating too much grass while I gardened.)

(It has been A Day.)