My Cat Is Trying To Eat My Face

A few minutes ago I was laying on my bed groaning from pain, and my cat decided this was an ideal time to climb on top of me, scooch up my chest so that his chest was on my chin, and try to eat my face.  I can’t tell whether he is trying to help, or thinks I’m dead already so he should start trying to get rid of the body.

I am a giant slug.  A gelatinous mass of oozing pain and self-pity the likes of which has NEVER been seen on this earth before.  Life has thrown me some challenges, and because of them, I have fallen and I can’t get up.

So I am not writing a “good” post today.  Not one that is well thought out. I’m not even going to edit this.  I’m just telling you – I am down for the count, and will be back later.

It’s possible that all of the delving into the past that I’ve been doing kept me down in the dark for too long.

It’s possible that my soon-to-be estranged husband moving out in one week has me distracted and depressed.

It’s possible that the near fatal fall I had on the sidewalk outside my apartment building last Saturday jostled something loose in my brain and I am no longer a functional human being.

It’s possible that all of these things have combined into the perfect storm of FUCK THIS SHIT I’M OUT.

Or all of the above.  All I know for sure is that I’ve been trying to write a decent blog post for about 6 days now, and NOTHING.  Nada. Zilch. Zip. Noly guacamole. (I don’t even know why that’s in there, but it just came out, and I’m not editing, right?)

So.  I will return to my not-at-all regularly scheduled programming eventually, I’m sure. In the meantime, enjoy this totally classy and not at all immature response to real life:

Come on – do the dance with me.  MMm-hmmm…

 

 

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