American Catastrophe

So my landlord has started bringing her two cats to stay at my house while there is construction going on at her house. The cats' names are Freedom and Liberty.
They are not ever, EVER allowed to go outside.

I could make a crack about her being a Republican, but I will restrain. All I will say is: that, my friends, is what you call irony.

If love were a pastry...

When I am feeling down and depressed for largely ungraspable reasons, I find that pie is one of the surest way to cheer myself up for a few moments. I think this is because it tastes somewhat how love would taste if love were a pastry.
Of course I glad that love is not a pastry, because with pastries it is only a few bites before you're left feeling fuller than ever and as empty as before, but when I am feeling down or depressed for largely ungraspable reasons, I wish that finding true love was as easy as pie, and I could buy some from the grocer for 6.99 (plus tax), freshly baked just for me, in a aluminum tin I would save forever as a symbol of love's everlasting presense at my side.
But if that is too much to ask, could I just save leftover love in the fridge for something a little less fleeting to heat up on lonely nights?
...
xxoo