We’ve taught Scouty to wipe her feet before she comes inside, and usually she’s pretty good at it. Yesterday afternoon she had mud on the tops of her paws so beloved was leaning over to help her wipe them when Scouty suddenly lifted her head, hitting beloved in the nose with such force that beloved fell into the wall. The result? Beloved is currently sporting a swollen, sore nose. That is broken.

Yes, broken. My fur baby broke my beloved’s nose.

And I’m not sure too many other people can make that statement.

This is how I helped make it better:

Image by The Naughty Corner

Image by The Naughty Corner

My thinking is loud tonight so I think it best to make this a relatively short post. Because the thing is, thinking spills out of my head and travels down my arms and hits my fingers, which then blab to whoever will read. It’s a bit like my computer screen at the moment. I have 13 tabs open, including this one. Many thoughts, some are as important as a game idea that involves the Cubs wrapping themselves in bed sheets then caterpillaring up the hall; others serving to remind me to get back to writing; others still prompting me to get the confidence to start selling crochet stuff.

And then I remember a particular exchange at the pharmacy this week, which is probably a good note to end this post on.

I had just been to the respiratory specialist, who was in the same building as the doctor that diagnosed someone close to me with a significant condition not so long ago. So my head was very mixed up. I was remembering and trying to listen and distracted and it was raining and oh shit the air conditioning and the fans have stopped working in my car therefore the car is going to be all fogged up, and now it’s dark and the foggy windscreen is making the headlights all hard to judge and oh just fuck, just fuck it. Fuck it.

This is where my mind was when I went to the pharmacy with a prescription. My feet walked me to the counter and I handed over the prescription and the chick who served me asked, “Have we had this before?”.

And I had a think about it. Had a come here with this, the last time I got this prescription filled?

“Um, I don’t know. I’m not sure what you stock usually. I can’t remember if I got it filled here last time. Wouldn’t it be just a standard prescription? How would I know if you’ve had this before?”.

Not what she meant. Not what she meant at all.


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