Quite obviously, something has died in the guest room.
Do you know how much I DO NOT APPRECIATE THAT?
I should get my ass in there and tear the place apart.
But Owen is sleeping and by god, I'm going to nap too although whatever it is is just going to get deader and deader. And smell worse and worse. It's already bad enough that I'm wondering if the coyote that finished the rat/possum could be in there, maybe wedged up in a closet.
I do not have joy, joy, joy down in my heart.