Every time my leg boil is attended to the black cat investigates. Last time was Valentines Day. She sits on my stomach as thewife squeezes ichor from the site.Maybe it's simple curiosity; cats are known for investigating things.
Articles from Harrangue Man
I endured the crafting of another Lovecraftian email—only one typo this time and I didn't re-send it when found because it almost looked right for the absence of a pair of commas—but then had to step away from the computer lest additional hurt land. So I found Game of Thrones, set it up on the laptop, then rode the bike to break the spell. I hate this shit; having to re-live again and again what happened to me, the horror I endured and the ongoing knock-on damage it cause.
I have to use a Clearwipe on the laptop screen because splatter from expectorant and other assorted disgust has sullied it to the point where I can't tell if that's punctuation or a bit of yuck.It's near nine-years-old, this machine, bought when still working and on a discount.
I just saw in the chicken pen there is a foam or plastic number nine or the letter g.I do not know how this alpha-numeracy came to be. It's the second weirdest thing found in the pen since that rubber Darth Vader head.
With thanks to The Beach BoysBecause I have PTSD, if I am also physically vulnerable then my anxiety level is up and my wounded brain interprets some sounds as threats.Being half-naked and facing away from the door in a metal shed makes me feel vulnerable. A bunch of metal on metal noises happened outside and I asked for who it was to go away because my brain treated then as scary noises. They did, but then they came back for more activity.
I was grappling with my past when a karmic moment dropped—their hate made me beautiful.I spent a childhood smothered in negativity from my diversion to the norm—that my mother caused—which caused on-set of depression at ten.It never left; it will never go.
I wasn't this error prone when working but I just did a typical re-read of an email and re-sent it because there was a mistake that needed to be corrected. It was the second re-send.I know why it is; it's because when I am drafting these emails it's traumatic and my upside-down brain is screaming at me to get it done as quick as possible.
theboy has some sort of deal where he can send me text messages from his iPad and it doesn't cost us anything.Then he texted a pic of Santa and added "That's my Dad".I feel like Jerry Seinfeld after The Puffy Shirt; there's no come-back to that.
Today in chicken land the chickens tried and decided:Granny Smith apple, skin-side-out (equals) no.Granny Smith apple, inside-facing-out or already skinned (equals) yesThree-legged cockroach who had four legs until I stepped on it that I then picked it up with my human fingers and threw it into the pen to a Polish scruff (equals) yes. theboy does not like the GS type of apple so they're all for the chickens now.