As if it’s not enough that K DD has trouble working the bottle opener, and her dewclaw gets snagged in the corkscrew– NOW you have to go and make it hard to spark up her morning doobie. I mean, REALLY. You know what happens if she remains lucid for more than a few minutes. Before you know it there’s a “zen garden” on your bedspread made of pee rivulets and cleverly placed piles of litter. It’s because she is “artistic”, or so she keeps telling me. I’m considering a round-the-clock IV drip of box wine just to keep her manageable. You simply have no idea of the daily horrors I endure–being forcibly subjected to endless “pageants” where she attempts to perform adult contemporary hits of the 70s but can never remember anything except for that one ABBA song so she just sings it over and over again until you end up weeping blood.