As if I needed a reason

So for no apparent reason but that I'm tired from a long day and I feel like it's a worthwhile topic, I thought I'd mention to the blog why it is that I consider myself a qualified counselor in madness. Yesterday I got home from work to find most of my shit bagged up in trash bags and piled in my Dining room. This was accompanied by a note from my sister informing me that "this is not your house and I may come and go as I please as well as leave or take what I please." The footnote to this is that I just got done cleaning my kitchen with a fine toothed comb and the very next day my sister left a half eaten bowl of raisin bran in the sink. Disgusted by cleaning up someone else's mess I made a slight comment to my father about the situation. Now apparently I'm being forced out of the house by methods that an angry fiancee would use. The funny part, I'm the one being called "childish". So this weekend I get to pack up everything that I care about that's not already in New Orleans and lock it in my bedroom with the hope that my father doesn't get ambitious and bring a bolt cutter to the house. Y'know I really thought that when I moved in with Vic, Sid, Fet, and Jaws that it truly was the "House of Madness". Now I know that the house I've been living in, the same house I was raised in, contains more madness than five artists and a shitload of booze could ever create.