Alex, Alex, Alex - you silly mustelidaes servant - why do you keep calling it "your house"? Oh, I get the concept. You and the mister pay the mortgage, utilities and the like. That makes it *feel* like it's your house. It probably should, in a perfect world, be your house. But we all know the truth. And about the tomatoes. Those are not your tomatoes. Ping Is He and Princess Puma (names truly befitting royalty) have no use for tomatoes. The tomato seedlings only exist so you can put them in dirt and *that's* the commodity they find interesting. I'm sure that your royal pair would wish that you would plant all kinds of seedlings. It matters not what, only that the soil is soft and earthy-smelling, and that the pots of seedlings are plentiful and easily accessible. That you wish to have fresh tomatoes on your salad is... well, exactly that - a wish. But keep doing battle, my lady. Early Britain's peasants eventually won out over their original landlords. It only took them a couple hundred years. Of course, back then they didn't have the furniture you have, so it might take you a bit longer. I kindly request an update on your progress, maybe around Hitler's birthday. Let us know how the good fight is going. I have to go now. My own landlords are unhappy with the freshness of their water (even though I just rinsed and filled it up). They have overturned the bowl in a royal tantrum, as usual, just so they could watch me mop it up. "Freeeeedoooooooooommmmmm........" Roary Albuquerque, NM [Posted in FML 5918]