Pets are Dicks
After I wrote my post on Saturday, I learned that September is National Recovery month - which is designed to raise awareness and understanding of mental and substance use disorders. You’re welcome! Today felt like a full moon. I googled it and it is not a full moon. Things did not improve for me at home. I just remarked to the dog, “You’re a dick. You know that?!” He looked at me with unblinking eyes as I shoved a spoonful of what turned out to be expired yogurt into my mouth. Earlier in the evening, the kitten leapt onto my head as if we were in the WWF. He scratched the side of my forehead and I shrieked and plucked him off. He’s a dick too. That whole scene reminded me of a high school boyfriend who had shock white, blonde hair. He’d be sitting on our couch, all gentlemanly like, when our cat Smokey would leap on his head and tussle with his hair - biting at it. This happened more than once. My mom would be mortified but also slightly amused.
“I don’t know why Smokey’s doing that! Maybe it’s the color of your hair?” My mom would say, trying to keep a straight face. As if that made the inexplicable explicable.
The former boyfriend took this in stride. My families dick cat was not our undoing. I saw this former boyfriend at my 25th high school reunion and we reminisced - but not about how my family cat was a dick in those instances. Which feels like I really missed an opportunity to be my awkward self. Maybe we’ll have a 30th high school reunion?
You would think I’d be prepared for a day like today. I spent my entire Sunday in my pj’s, which Andrea kindly pointed out I should wash. I got one more night out of them - which was more than one night too many. At one point, Andrea said, “You didn’t even comb your hair today!” I’m all yours, Andrea. All. Yours. Somehow, I managed to make it to an exercise class tonight. I’m already feeling the effects - so much so that I suspect I will need assistance getting off the toilet. Which is going to be problematic since I’ll be at work. Eh.