Breaking the Chain

Didn't end up doing much at all today, except Josh and I walked the now long walk to town and got supplies and got a taxi home. 

I've been thinking a lot about the situation with Emily and a bit of distance and calm has given me a little more perspective.  We can relax, we can leave money, jewellery, electronics etc lying around and still find them there intact in the morning.  Nothing has been broken, damaged or stained since we moved in.  We haven't had to walk on eggshells the whole time.  Not a voice has been raised in anger (high jinx maybe but that is okay).  Everyone is calm, happy and doing what they are supposed to be doing (except me unpacking heh heh).  And the more this goes on, the more we realise that we got so used to the chaos and drama that it became "normal" to us and we tended not to question it too much, just learned to dance around it, cope with it and not make any unnecessary waves.  That is crazy, and with each passing day it looks even crazier to me.  So I wonder that if Emily is now living in a calm environment, and I know them and know she is, and she will be there for at least another five weeks (thank you God/Goddess whomever) will she realise that her behaviour wasn't right, and will she learn new behaviours that she will bring home to us?  I know for sure that her aunt and the rest of them won't tolerate her messiness, her dirty habits and her acting out, they just won't and I doubt if she will display those things down there.  Will this break the chain of dysfunction for all of us I wonder?  Will she learn any lessons from being away from home?  If we set down firm rules, Phill and I, and agree and stick to them and have consequences and present a united front will it change things?  I don't know what else to do, or what else to think.
These are the views from our front verandah.  Looking down towards the railway end of town and beyond to the beautiful farmlands.

Because we have a...........

and we also have a ........

......seething mass of kittens.  All are about a week old now and getting so big.  Poor Harley having five hungry little mouths to feed, but she's doing beautifully as always.  I'm giving her extra food as she needs it and plenty of her favourite "pussy cat milk".  It's Wiskas cat milk but bugger me if she doesn't understand when I say "pussycat milk" and even recognises the carton.  Why do I always assume animals are dumb?

These are my retro canisters.  I put them through the dishwasher and for the age they are, they are in perfect condition.  I can't believe the prices they are fetching.  To sell, or not to sell?