God's idea of slapstick

The household after tomorrow will have anywhere from three months to a year to find a new mortgage or pay this one off. The heater only kinda sorta works. There's mice and the housekeeping shows the marks of a year plus of depression and despair, to put it mildly. Plus our cat Samantha is on her last legs, our beloved little neurotic love junkie grey and white girl elder kitty. When does it fucking stop?