If the dog says “how”…
…why do I keep saying “why”?
i feel like seagull poop. no, i feel like seagull shit. smelly.
last time I saw Cannibal, he told he was starting infusing me with zometa - and i should google it (favorite thing to say to me, but who can blame him as most of his clients are over 80 and don’t have internet access) to see if it’s for me. well, it’s not for me, no more so than alcohol is for alcoholics. do the nursies listen to me? not “no” but “hell no”. i got the zometa despite not wanting it. and they didn’t weigh me so they, most likely, gave me enough for someone of much more weight (like, 50 pounds more weight). so i’m falling all over the place and scaring olivia. and messing myself up to boot. (can you say “blood everywhere”???)
i’m glad i got laid off (although it was illegal for them to do that - bossie didn’t know the laws, especially considering i was working at least 42 hours every 4 days).
and i’m glad my neighour phoned social services! maybe now i can live out my life - and littler dog can live out a part of her life - in peace. hey, maybe i can learn how to use that rangefinder before i die.
i’m tired - and my hands are frozen due to the zometa. even B’s blanket won’t warm them up. Littler Dog is doing her best to keep me entertained.
my head hurts.