Don’t be a boob, Elliot
This morning, Elliot couldn’t be persuaded to eat even the smelly, wet food we had on hand. This earned him a visit to the vet today. Andrea took him and frankly, it seems bad. As in, I googled cat hospice (it exists and in our area. Bonus?). Tomorrow we will find out just how bad. I have a jam packed day - a job fair and then a mammogram. I hope that the vet does not ring me up when my boobs are getting crushed but I feel like that would bring Elliot some joy so fine. Because my boobs are dense assholes, mammograms are a production. Picture. Read. Picture. Read. Then, I meet with a doctor immediately. I prefer this to leaving and having them call a week later to tell me they saw something and that I need to come back. Last year, I ended up getting a biopsy AND! lumpy, benign boobs earned me a spot in a study where they did an MRI. I hope my boobs keep their shit together this year. Our dog Georgie was supposed to return from reform school tomorrow. This has been delayed as he’s not quite there. This doesn’t surprise me. I mean - it was just a few weeks ago when he ate the sleeve off my shirt. Not while I was wearing it. Jesus. Imagine?! Anyway. He will be back on Sunday or Tuesday. This is fine because I can’t deal with the vet, my boobs and Georgie’s return all in a day. This is the most boring post. I feel I should say, “Dear Diary, today I had the special at the cafeteria at work and it was delish.” Because that’s the only thing that could make this post more dull. Anyway. Send good juju to Elliot and my boobs.