I have briefly disengaged myself from the throng of houseguests to make the following announcement:

Somebody ate all of my Cornflakes.

I can handle the endless snoring from bloated corpse-like guests passed out all over my house.

I can handle the giant electricity, phone and grocery bills we inevitably get lumbered with.

I can handle the utter disregard for my privacy and desire for peace.

I can even handle cooking for seven ravenous people in two sittings every night.

But when they eat all of my Cornflakes, that means war !.

There are many things I can do without in this world, but Cornflakes I have to have.

And they ate them.

All of them.

Even those yucky little ones at the bottom of the box.

I feel so violated !.

Plus, I fear a nasty tussle next time someone pees on the tiles on the toilet floor. Why don't men wipe it up ? Why ?. Why, every time men get drunk, do I have to navigate a river of pee on the toilet floor ?.

I don't wear shoes very often, and, the 'producer' of the next pee river I step in is going to be forced to pee in the garden henceforth.

And to think, this could all have been avoided if only they hadn't eaten all of my Cornflakes !.

I'm going to go and put sand in their beds now.

Happy New Year, everyone !!!.