Blog Number One and Basil's little Problem

Hello Readership, this is my first blog. I started this so that i could write what i wanted. I suppose thats what a Blog is for. and if the description of the blog doesn't explain the name, i will now. it is because one time, Hannah Hillam and myself were on the computer and i saw something postmodern, and forgetably incredible, seeing as i cannot remember what it was, and i was delighted. Then my glasses flew off my head while i was dancing with sheer bliss. So i apologized to Hannah, saying "sorry, my glasses flew off in a fit of Postmodern joy" and that should explain that.
Aside from that, my entire downstairs area smells like a giant litterbox. At first, it was because Basil, our lazyest, grey-est and least self-controlled cat, pooped in my shower. But now, that got cleaned up and it still smells. whats scarier is that there is no litterbox down here, and Basil is almost always asleep on my bed. So... i think i'm going to sleep our couch tonight. The couch we had upstairs was very long, very ugly and Very comfy. but then my dad and i took it outside and labeled it with F-R-E-E written in paper plates in hopes that it would get taken. (come to think of it though, out neighbors are having a yard sale, we could just drop it off there and then that would get rid of it for us, and they could make money off of it.) and it got replaced with my recently married sisters third couch. well, it was her third, but then she gave it to us, and it's more a love seat. BUT, all that being said, i can't sleep on our new 'couch' because it is, in fact, a love seat. and being a love seat, as it is, it is too short. So, i will have to face the psychological torment that is sleeping in my bed with Basil around.
a Post-Script: Our cat is called Basil after Basil Fawlty of Fawlty Towers. My dad said, after we had three cats, that if we got another, we would have to name it Basil. I'm sure he was hoping to dissuade my mother. But, 5 years and Three cats later, Basil poops everywhere and my mother is wishing she had just listened to my father. It would have been easier for her to listen though if he had wanted to name him something not cute and herb-y, like Craphouse, or Latrine. But, alas. I'm going to go curl up on our new 'couch' now and try to sleep.