Inside the Monster.

The "bones," as our house inspector said, are solid. It is the character of the house that needs a bath.

The grandfather clock in the front hallway is a metaphor. It is solid and standing, but it is covered in grime, the pendulum is broken off, and a cat bed sits in the bottom. Not to overlook the fact that it sits in a room smelling of powerful wee.

Here, kitty kitty!

The house is filled with all sorts of awesome. Take the dining room.

And the third floor.

Her My Little Pony collection in the living room is rad.

And every closet is a surprise. A surprise filled with Barbie Dolls still in the box. Every closet - hall, bedroom, bathroom - looks like this one, only some are floor-to-ceiling Barbie. Literally. If Cat Lady had sold these on EBay not only could she have paid the liens on the house, she could have bought herself a Porsche, a new white tiger poster, and a few more litters of kittens.

Each bedroom was also a surprise. Is that a blood stain on the wall? Is that a body in the bed? I still only smell wee, so if it is a body it is either freshly dead or still alive.

Same thing here. Should I wake him up?
And by the way, that white tiger poster in the window is actually the window.

Why do I still only smell wee? Oh yeah, cat litter in every room.

Dinner is served!

The single candle on the stove really helped. By the way, does the stove look brand new to you? Because it might as well be. It has never been turned on. Cat Lady informed me that she conforms strictly to the hibachi/microwave method of cooking.