As if *my* neuroses weren't enough to deal with

Lately I've been trading blows with Self-Defeating Erin on a number of issues (popularity, writing skills, attractiveness levels, what to have for dinner, one Benadryl tablet or two), so I've had little energy left to expend in stopping Bonnie from digging holes at random locations in the backyard. The only real danger is not seeing one and stepping in it.

At least that was the only danger, until yesterday. Bonnie found something.

It's a piece of wood. That is obviously part of a hatch. Leading to a nuclear fallout shelter.

I haven't dug the rest of it up yet, mainly because I don't know what I'll say to the psychotic who's been holed up down there for several decades. I mean, what can you say? "Good news, Cuba backed down!" And then there's the burden of explaining about the Cold War, the Internet, the Real Housewives franchise, how an iPad is different from an iPhone, why he should switch from fifty-year-old canned goods to fresh-local-organic, blah blah blah. I can't deal with all that right now.

I guess I'll just leave him down there until Self-Defeating Erin is back under control.