I know I know I know I know I know. I haven’t written here in forever. I am too dang busy for my own good. So now it’s 5:13 and I technically COULD still be working, god knows I have work to do, but I’ve already worked 8 hours and I am full. My brain is full. So I will write you now, till 6:15-ish, when I have to get ready for my trainer.
First of all, does anyone know what I can do about the canker sore the size of a dinner plate I have residing inside my mouth-al area? Usually I have them a day or two and they dissipate, but not this one. Nooo. I’ve swished hydrogen peroxide around there a hundred and nine times. …I guess that’s all I’ve done. Other than complain about it to anyone who will listen.
Today I had a brief exchange with Thousandman, my boss, fmr. Not to be confused with the boss, fmr., who refuses to believe Billie Jo McAllister threw a baby off the Tallahatchie Bridge. That’s ANOTHER boss, fmr. The only thing I can remember about Thousandman being my boss is that his real name actually has the word “gross” in it and I legitimately thought a gross was a thousand, except a gross isn’t a thousand. What is it? Ten? I forget. Anyway I called him Thousandman, thinking I was World’s Most Clever, and yet I was World’s Most Unclever. I was the writer of the Bazooka Gum comic, that’s how unclever.
The point is, haven’t seen or talked to Thousandman, my boss, fmr., since, you know, February, and he was all, “Hey, how you doing, anyway?” and I said, “Oh, I have a canker sore the size of a dinner plate. You?”
No one likes to hear from me.
In other news, Lilly the person’s friend is at Lilly the person’s house getting his kitten, the Siamese-ish kitten that for a few blissful weeks was potentially MY kitten.
But you know what I really can’t handle right now? A kitten.
The vet called to say I love you. The vet called to say how much I care. The vet called. To say. I lovvvvve you. And the vet means it from the bottom of his heart.
The vet called to say Iris’s info/urine sample is all ready and all I have to do is call the radiation place to make her appointment to get her thyroid radiated. I meant to call this afternoon but see above re busy.
Also, I feel guilty. I have a neighbor whom I have been helping out when I can, but it’s getting to the knock-every-day point and today I answered and said, “I’m really on a deadline and cannot talk.” I really was on a deadline and really couldn’t talk, but I feel bad. It seems like a thing in this neighborhood, though. You give an inch and they take a pizza. Remember that? When I got pizza and the one neighbor knocked and said, “Can I have a piece of pizza”? I had also been helping him when I could, with matches, water, never money. Once Ned gave that guy $20 and said, “Please look out for June.” Do you know what that guy has never done? Is look out for old June. I guess he DID look out when the pizza delivery guy came.
Anyway. Tomorrow night I drive over to Lilly the person’s house and get one of her black kittens, not to be confused with my Siamese kitten I almost had and not to be confused with the boss who didn’t believe they threw a baby off that bridge. I am taking said kitten with me on Friday to Charlotte, where Edsel has an appointment with his cardiologist
“Tallulah. Eds be comin’ to join Lu, honey.”
and while I am waiting outside for Eds to have his heart checked out, I am meeting up with and inevitably catching coronavirus from my friend Marianne, who was running low on cats and offered to take one of Lilly the person’s kittens.
Lilly the person. Not to be confused with Lily my cat or the Siamese kitten or my boss or the baby that went sailing off the Tallahatchie Bridge.
I have to go. I mean, I don’t HAVE to go, but I might catch up on a few of your tarot readings. Twelve of you asked me for them and I have read six of them so far. Remember, if you made a donation to Iris’s radiation and did not leave me a note in PayPal saying you wanted a reading, I do not know that you want a reading. So email me here at email@example.com ONLY if you want a reading. Use the subject title “Tarot.” Thanks! Thanks for the donations for Iris!
I’ve been letting her sleep with me because she’s sick, and I have to tell you Iris is the best little sleeper ever. She lines up her spine with yours and never fusses. If you roll over, she just moves over to where your spine is now. She is spine-align-a-da.
Have I mentioned I’m too busy? And coming up with phrases like spine-align-a-da? It literally makes no sense.
Talk to you, except talking hurts the canker sore I have that is the size of a dinner plate.
June. Not to be confused with the month. Or June Allyson for Depends. Or my boss, who threw a baby off a bridge.