You know I like Iris and all. But I’m fixing to snap her cat neck.
Eds has DESPERATELY needed a shower with Lifebuoy and then some Right Guard, and also he needs a manicure. The other day he walked across my foot and actually scratched me with his talons. Eds is usually a nice-smelling dog, so who knows what debauchery he’s been up to during this, my convalescence.
So on this, the first day I am allowed to drive after this, my convalescence, I called the dog daycare place as soon as I woke up. “Yes,” I said, because you know how I am. “My dog needs a bath. Can he get one today?”
“Edsel?” they asked, and I’m assuming it’s because they have my phone number hooked up with a computer, just like the government does, and that’s how they get you.
My point is, they said yes to the bath if I could get him there “in 20 minutes.”
I had phoned them from my bed, like Doris Day, only Doris Day if she’d fallen on rough times. Oh my god I had to leap out of bed with my incision, wash face brush teeth let dog out feed dog dress get dog leash
AND THE WHOLE TIME IRIS WAS DIRECTLY IN MY WAY.
Look. I realize she’s not so sight-y. But I’d turn around and there she’d be, gazing off thoughtfully into her world of darkness as I tripped on her.
Next room? deeeep thot. by eyeriss.
And if I were her, I’d keep out of my way because she’s on antibiotics and she was only reminding me to shove one down her gullet.
Eds and I got to dog daycare in 23 minutes, and bite my shorts. It was my first sojourn out my hood in two weeks. I remember that weekend before this surgery (did you know I had surgery?), how I worked out, then ran around town all day getting things for this, my convalescence. I remember kind of enjoying it. Now I can’t imagine having that kind of energy ever again.
Anyway, here is the webcam for dog daycare. I don’t see Eds there yet, but he still might be under the hooded dryer, reading Cosmopolitan with his nails out so he won’t smudge them.
After I dropped the dog off, I headed to the voting place, so I could cast my vote for America and also pick up 47 strands of Coronavirus.
I’d heard from the people I dine with on Fridays that once you’re 55, you can join this center FOR FREE, and oh my god, you guys, I am so on board. You should have seen all the seniors popping in and out of there, waving at one another and exchanging the virus. Also, there’s a pool!
In the South, everyone belongs to a pool. I’d never heard of such a thing till I got here. So now I can be one of those people who, when you ask after my weekend plans, can say, “Oh, I’ll probably just head down to my pool.”
It was nice in there, yellow cinderblock aside. There was even a display of everyone’s quilts. I am beside myself and cannot wait to be 55. To the Smith Center I will drive. At FIFTY-FIVVVVVEEEE!
I voted using a pen touched by everyone and their virus, then drove home holding my hands before me like I’d soaked them in dung. I washed hands for a Howard Hughes length of time and now I’m writing you. I’d wanted to turn back and take a photo I’d seen of a funny church sign between dog daycare and voting, but that hour of being out was kind of enough of m’first sojourn during this, my convalescence.
But since I’ve had nothing but time, which is now limited since I went out and caught The Virus, I came up with a couple ideas for future posts.
My StitchFix came, like, the day I had surgery, and I forced my mother to pose for me in all of them and was going to get you to vote on them that way, but somebody would take it too seriously and be all, “We can’t decide based on HER wearing them, JOOOOOON.” So I think I can get up the energy to pose in them later today.
But! I’ve decided to use all poses I find in my Soft Selections catalog.
Is it Soft Selections? WTF is it? You know the one. It’s an old lady catalog that has $100 pajamas. WHO spends that much for normal pajams? I understand if they’re all sexy and you get some action from them. But toile pajamas do not need to cost a hundy, Soft Spoonisms. What’s it really called? Stupid anesthesia.
So that’s my first idea, but also too, I have several things in my house I wish to change. I thought each week I could feature something, like, What color should I paint this room? or Should I get curtains or leave these wooden blinds like I’m Geppetto?
Then you could offer your suggestions and links (be careful cause I think WordPress plunks you in spam if you have more than one link in a comment) to drapes or floors or paint or wallpaper you like, and doesn’t that sound kind of fun?
So what should we call it? I thought of June Gaines but that just sounds like I’m busting through my BPI. Is that what it’s called, that number that if it’s over 25 you weigh too much? Goddammit. I hate anesthesia.
Anyway, those are my exciting thoughts for zipping things up in the bedroom, or this blog, whichever.
Now I’ve had too much excitement and need to nap like a toddler.