in my feverish state, as the stepson and his father battled it out through f-bombed laced notes left on the counter, i have re-found and re-claimed my power. maybe "power" is too strong a word, but maybe not. after spending countless hours and smudged fingers looking through the Houses For Rent section of the paper, i realized - they could go. it would be the most sensible thing - i have a studio here and a dog and a fenced yard. i don't work out of town 3 weeks a month, nor do i leave for college in the fall. so i left Them a note advising them of the house rules. they could accept or leave. what a rush of reclamation. where have i been hiding all this time, eggshell-walker? a by-chance comment by mother, and a Nyquil-induced dream of who i was/am, and BAM. so the house is silent, with 2 men on tippy toes...one doing mad laundry and the other hopefully cleaning a disgusting & horrifically smelly room. i have promised a heavy load for the garbage men in the morning - anything not in it's place will be heaved. along with any drugs/alcohol found anywhere in or around the house. from either of the men in this house. i am done. ROAR. now back to a nap.