you have before,,,,sigh…. You have before you a tattered, Rick no no no… Shattered wreck… Tattered array… Oh shipped… Sigh… Shit shit shit. Looking back I can see that shattered wreck may be the closest I can come, and it's close enough or perhaps even better than a tattered one I guess. perhaps I had better start over.(for some reason today Dragon is having trouble capitalizing the first letter of the first word of my sentences… It also seems to be creating separate sentences where there shouldn't be Annie.… I wonder if I can introduce Annie to Rick?…I think the word I was looking for is annie… Any. up up up up, what happened there and what was I saying? Something about Draagoninmposing some strange phrasing on my prose. Nevermind.....things can only get better… Or worse.
as I was trying to say, you havebefore you a tattered wreck of a human being who has just spent 15 minutes trying to don her morning schmatah. in this case the word schmatah describes a shapeless garment that covers me from chin to ankles, processing… Proposed …. you can't do it, can you?… POS S ESS … you win… Having long sleeve long sleeves and deep pockets. The problem is that when I wake up I am not the sharpest crayon in the box, and consequently I spent some time with my head inside the garment and with arms inside flailing helplessly as I attempted to put my hands through what seemed to be sleeves that had been sewn shut. My ries, moans and shitpissfucks were thankfully muffled by my head, being buried in cloth, but it was some time before I realized that I had not reached quite high enough, and as attempting to put my hands through the pockets… Upup up… A very frustrating way to begin the day, I'll tell you. I can only say that I'm grateful that I did not punch through the pockets in my frenzy, thereby rendering them useless from now on. Must be grateful for small favors.
Having finally gotten my hands through the sleeves, and my head through the caller no no no… It's caller no you stubborn mule… … Oh, where was I… I finally got my head out through the top and I was just about so worn out I had the impulse to just crawl back into bedand wrute tge day off but I bravely forged ahead, shoved my feet into my slippers (wrong feed in wrong slippers) and staggered into the dining room where the laptop lives and my day usually begins.
t Of course, before I even sit down at the laptop the most urgent thing is to measure out Pauline's rations for the day. The doctor sternly prescribed 7/8 of a cup of kibble per day, not one chrome? crumb more, in this drastic effort to reduce her buy a pound so that hopefully she can clean her own fanny and relieve me of the task. I think it is working, but I'm not sure that either of us will live to see the day. She may be suffering hunger pangs but I am suffering the tortures of the damned not only being awakened at five and again at 7 AM for a few morsels to carry her over till breakfast, but faced with having my heart torn to shreds by her piteous looks during the day between feedings when she ply plateunges a dagger into my heart with her pleading glances at the empty platette and then at her mercilessly cruel enforcer. Yes, she gets fed five or six times a day in small portions, but apparently does not consider that an adequate meal by any means. I plan to take her to the vet next week for her way in to no no no, I should've known that would not work… To be weighed praying that she has lost at least 3 ounces. Actually, I do believe that the diet is being good for her because she is more alert and more active. I remember vividly how much better I used to feel physically when I was on a diet and losing a a few pounds. It was a tossup, though, betweebetween ckthe agony of being hungry all the time and the small pleasure from being able to move more easily. You can be damn sure that neither of us would be going through this if it weren't for the necessity of me following her around with wet wipes. oy vey.
A s for the new little critter, Tootsie is doing beautifully... I still have a lot of work to do training her. She'll let me pet her, scratch her chin and neck, her back and the base of her tail, but she still won't let me pick her up and put her on my lap. When she goes out (which I permit once in a while). She has been very good about coming back when I call her shrieking "Tootsie" and lots of "here pussy pussy pussy pussy" accompanied by much clapping of the hands and some meowing noises. Sometimes she comes back even when I don't call her and I am thrilled to find her lounging on the Mexican tile floor of her sunroom waiting for me or some treat.... I am sure for grilled chicken livers (which she only gets a few times a week… You think I'm going to spoil this cat? Not a chance.
if you think life on Califa Street is deadly dull I Baig to differ known no… I beg to differ. there are times when it is utterly amazing and the mind-boggling. Take the day ecently when Florence staggeed in wringing her hands and moaning in a tremulous voice, "there is a body in the walkway." Now I must explain that Florence is a fearful person and she is especially fearful when it comes to creatures of the animal persuasion. Nevertheless, the statement shook me up I must admit, and I carefully inquired, "you mean a body like a person or a body like an animal?" I was very relieved to hear that it was some sort of an animal, (not quite sure how I would manage to cram a human body into one of my large garbage sex… Saks, no the hell with it…). I was pretty sure that Florence's eyes did not rest long enough on the corpse to determine whether it was cat, squirrel, opossum or raccoon, so I had to schlep out to the walkway and take a look myself. The poor departed turned out to be opossum who had probably eaten a snail that had been poisoned with snail bait. (Not in my yard… I never use the stuff). One thing I have to say in favor of opossums… They have that wonderful stiff tail that provides a handy handle for picking him up and dropping him into the trash bag. I think it would've been kinder of him to have expired on someone else's walkway, but I guess he figured that the chances of having a few kind words uttered over him were better here than any place else on the block. His place is already been taken at the porch buffet by another possum and life goes on as usual on upper Kelly for street no no no…… Callis does street know you haven't got it yet. Kelly is a straight…. The hell with it. But I must ask how many of you have been stirred out of your lethargy by having someone announce that there was a body in the walkway? I will tell you, I have almost gotten to the point where nothing surprises me anymore. no, that's a lie… I just never know quite what. Florence or the Dragon have in store for me.
That does it,My dear ones. I have to go away and ponder why Dragon fails to capitalize the beginning of some sentences and I can tell , it ain't going to be easy.