Good riddance to Nasty Cat and all that he stands for.

I know I've written a lot about my living arrangements as of late, a bit too much so in fact, but I felt as though, at the very least for myself if not for you, my fellow readers, the story was in need of some closure. Thus you need not wait with baited, yet disgusted breath any longer, because I'm sure you have been, for I give you the final (I promise, last one) installment of the yellow brick house.

I'll try and make this as concise as possible (Mostly to prove to myself that I can. I always find it funny that a large portion of my posts are a little bit long and wordy. What was that? You don't really find that terribly funny at all? I guess just talk to me and when our conversation ends in 2 minutes because I have nothing left to say, you'll see the irony. Ah, I digress.). Please compare and contrast, but mostly just contrast the following two photos:

My OLD house when I returned from home in Washington, in which time a whole new level of calamity and repulsion occurred:

Ew, but alas, goodbye old, and HELLO new! Ahhhh, finally. Relaxation.