It's not the dog.
I haven't actually changed since I got back from the hospital.
Just one big pajama week.
However, I'm beginning to offend myself.
I just lifted my arm to pet The Golden, and caught a whiff of catastrophe.
Do I really care that my dearest Papi can smell me from 5 feet away now?
Normally, I would.
Even though my love has seen me at my previous worst, this one tops all worsts of worsts.
I'm not looking or smelling my best.
If my pungent odor isn't super hot and attractive, I'm also a living chipmunk with great yellow bruised cheeks, and bad breath that now rivals Sir Bark-A-Lot.
I mean really, if I was concerned about being attractive during healing from jaw surgery, then I'd change.
But right now?
I don't really give a shit.
I mean really!
I've got coconut ice cream drizzled all over my clothes, and yes, that includes my socks, and there's something that looks like a rat living on my head.
Bad hair day like you've never seen it.
Anyway, just thought I'd come tell 'you', my imaginary friend, what's on my mind.
I suppose now I'll drift off into another sleep.
I'm actually surprised my brain has allowed me to spit this much out.
What I'm happy about now, is that I'm done all my antibiotics. Now I am not forced to eat anything while digesting these little demons.
Eating is more of a bother than I have ever experienced.
So, fuck it.
In this case, food is way over rated.
I'll just sit here all stinky.
i treat my body with respect