I went into my room yesterday evening to get another shirt to wear to walk Chewy, and ran smack into the Shadow Man. The visual impression of him was so strong, that I stopped as if I had physically been stopped by him. It was so freaky. I hate when he does that. It's worse than when he follows me around and lurks in the hallway.
Oh! We have pizza! Doc had pizza delivered last night. An unforeseen luxury. So I have that to eat tonight.
Simon had a horrible, big matte on his neck that he couldn't get to, and it went right to his skin. I held him for a while last night, and then, when he was calm, I took the scissors to that thing. Didn't get it all, it was too close to the skin, but I got most of it. He was a little freaked out, but figured out what I had done pretty quickly and came back to cuddle me in thanks. He hates those things, but not as much as he hates being groomed. That's up there on his hate list with being pilled or medically examined. He is a troubled child. We don't know how long he was feral.
Much later that night . . .
Got Doc off to work with as little contact as possible. He took the computer from me while I was looking at the "meth entries" here, and I left them open in a tab, but minimized the browser because he uses a different browser. He had been snooping at my tabs, and found that and was reading it while I was trying to talk to him and he kept telling me to shut up, then act like nothing happened, then snap at me again, then pretend he hadn't. I don't know how much of it he read before he huffed out of the room. And it was a half an hour before I figured out why and closed the tab altogether. Why does he do these things to himself?
Anyway, they are currently marked "private". I'm wrestling with opening them up, or putting them, as written, in a chapbook and publish it. I still haven't read all the way through it. I have to pull up my pants and do that first.
Who the fuck just rang the doorbell? And not the secret ring, either. They can stay outside. I didn't hear the big-ass truck approach, or the scooter. I'm not getting off this couch. The dog is fired. He's passed out next to me, didn't hear a thing. Tulip heard it, but she's not door monitor, so she curled back up and went back to sleep.
Let's see, the back gate is unlocked but closed and hard to open. The security gate to the garage is closed and secure. The sliding glass door is locked. And I have a knife. And enough minutes on my phone to call the po-lice.
I'm debating with myself whether to toke up or do the dishes. I organized and set them all to soak in soapy hot water, I think I'll do them tomorrow.
I got food poisoning from day-old pizza hut pizza. It sucked. There were a couple of hours there that I wanted to die. Doc doesn't get it. He has an iron stomach, nothing makes him sick. I get food poisoning fairly regularly by ratio of how often we eat out. I don't get it when I cook at home. I am a complete stickler for safe food handling practices, with a couple of exceptions. I use packaging as a surface when I run out of surface, and that is very bad. And I let most of my over-processed fast food sit out overnight so it is easier to reheat the next day. Sometimes I will put it in a plastic bag, most times, I won't. I've never gotten sick from that, though. Only left over, wrapped, and refrigerated pizza.
Do Jews in Israel really give a shit what John Voight and Chuck-fucking-Norris have to say? Ol' Bibi was running a campaign commercial with them pledging their undying love for Israel. I mean, no one here gives a rat's ass about them or what they say. And it's not like they had a big choice. Far Right, or Really Far Right. You know, like it's going to be here soon.
See, now THAT doorbell was on TV, totally different sound. There's been nothing since. If someone is in the back, they are ninja, and it is my time to die.
Here's a question I haven't seen asked: Is Matthew McConahey even allowed to drive on his meds? (I assume he's on meds after seeing him on the Graham Norton show as a coherent, alert, charismatic, literate, well-spoken human being)
Yeah, I tweeted that. How could I not? I think I'm hilarious. No one is paying attention, anyway.
Okay, I'm going to take my meds now, so I'm going to sign off and not risk getting myself into trouble. Maybe I'll take a shower and not remember it tomorrow. I apparently made toast at some point over the last 24 hours.