Unlike Christian Millichap, I'm No Math Major

I have had a chance to sleep off the initial cute canine-inspired delirium I was feeling last night. I did not sleep well, mind you. I tossed and turned with a nasty case of night sweats at the realization that there’s now another barking dog chemical added to already volatile combination of shrieking little girls with dirty faces and chain-smoking phone-shouting Parent of the Year candidates. There’s now, by my unofficial count, 15 humans or beasts living in this primordial soup that we call "Next Door." This does not include the steady carousel of decrepit automobiles that wobble up and down the driveway during all hours of the night.

When reached for comment, Charles Darwin said "good luck with that," and then asphyxiated himself with a turtle shell.