Booze, Pills and A Wild Imagination

Oh it's going to be a great day. I was thirty minutes late for work after spending most of my morning trying to get Ozzy to take his pain pill. He was having none of it. I've been picking the remnants of chicken, peanut butter and ham from beneath my freshly manicured nails.

I'm finger lickin' good. Yeah boy.

He's also decided that if he is going to be forced to stay in the house, he will not be laying on the nice, fluffly comforter we spread out for him. Oh but no. If he can't have his dog house, he will be taking the couch and anyone else who wants to sit on the couch, will just have to scootch to accommodate him.

It's going to be a long couple of weeks.


I arrived just in time for my appointment with the noggin doc last night, took my seat in her tiny waiting room and sat patiently until she came out to collect me. There is no receptionist.. just the tiny room with Asian antique furniture and stacks of magazines. Promptly at 4:30, the lock on the door to her office began to jiggle and I expected to see her walking her last appointment out, as she usually does. Instead, someone struggled with the lock, shaking the door, clicking the bolt back and forth until they finally jerked it open. I saw a tall, thin figure reaching down to pick something up, then she emerged, young, dark skinned and beautiful, with red-rimmed eyes swollen with tears. The object she'd reached down to collect was a half empty bottle of white wine.

"Hey," she mumbled as she meandered out the door. She stopped on the front porch, just outside the window and turned the bottle up on end, chugging the rest of it down before hopping in her Jeep Wrangler and peeling out of the parking lot.

It was a while before the Doc came out. While I waited, I wondered if she was okay, if I needed to go knock on the door. I had myself worked up into a nice little fit by the time she showed her smiling face. I just new she was laying back there, beaten half senseless, pictured myself being interviewed on the evening news.. or worse.. by the police as the body bag was wheeled out on a stretcher behind me.

Not that I have a wild imagination or anything.

After my appointment I went by the salon for some pornstar nail therapy. Hookerlicious nails do more for me than 20 noggin doc appointments. I got a different nail tech, who took forever, but did a a great job. I had to stop at Walmart on the way home, Ma needed Cokes. I sat in the parking lot afterwards and bawled... the squished up face, heaving, coughing, ugly cry... as I sat in the truck and watched it storm.

I finally got in around 8 or 9 I think, ran the dishwasher then settled in on the couch with the Oz-Man.

We had a rough night. I didn't sleep much.

How many more days 'til Friday?

Oh yeah.. it's Humpday. Let's hump it like Granny at the Sadie Hawkins dance down at "the home." Cuz that's as fast as I'm movin' today.

Ya'll have a good one.

Later Taters!


tiff said...

Catharsis sucks sometimes.

And that wino before you? INTRIGUING, ain't she?

kenju said...

I like to cry like that now and then. Clears out the cobwebs.

Nanny Goats In Panties said...

I'd like to see a picture of those hookerlicious nails cuz are we talking talons? Or just all glittery like?

Sorry, you're were so sad that you had to cry it out like that, but I hope you felt a little better afterwards.