Step back into my life?
I feel like one of those roadside carcasses.
All bloated and lifeless.
Even I can't just step back into my life. The Tension is messy, and it keeps getting messier.
I rolled in to find Trinity's eye swollen shut. It looked bad.
"We have a doctor in until six, can you come in now?"
I was at the vet's 15 minutes later.
"She's got an ulceration on her cornea," he said. "I think she'll be OK, though. There's no foreign bodies in there, she gave me a good look, and we'll see what the drops do. But I do want to see her again in a week."
Eye drops. One an antibiotic, the other a painkiller. The antibiotics have to go in her eye every four hours.
(Ever try giving eye drops to a dog by yourself? It's about as simplistic as giving a cat a pill.)
Trin's tussle with the skunk means I get to eat ramen for the rest of the month. But I'll gladly do it, if it means saving her eye.
I did pick up the bike. The Trek Fuel.
Looking at it, it probably is too small. But I need to ride it.
Which I wanted to do today.
But probably won't.
I need to get moving again. Two weeks of virtual inactivity has left me cranky and creaky.
I need to move.
Life has a way of imposing its will into things.
So much to do. So I'll make do. Move when I can.
Take care of the rest the best way I can.
Just do it.
And not complain.
(Looking around, I think I've got a night's work to do around the homestead, and we'll see how bad the office desk is, but it shouldn't be too bad.)
There is, however, a smile on my face.
(Wink.)
All bloated and lifeless.
Even I can't just step back into my life. The Tension is messy, and it keeps getting messier.
I rolled in to find Trinity's eye swollen shut. It looked bad.
"We have a doctor in until six, can you come in now?"
I was at the vet's 15 minutes later.
"She's got an ulceration on her cornea," he said. "I think she'll be OK, though. There's no foreign bodies in there, she gave me a good look, and we'll see what the drops do. But I do want to see her again in a week."
Eye drops. One an antibiotic, the other a painkiller. The antibiotics have to go in her eye every four hours.
(Ever try giving eye drops to a dog by yourself? It's about as simplistic as giving a cat a pill.)
Trin's tussle with the skunk means I get to eat ramen for the rest of the month. But I'll gladly do it, if it means saving her eye.
I did pick up the bike. The Trek Fuel.
Looking at it, it probably is too small. But I need to ride it.
Which I wanted to do today.
But probably won't.
I need to get moving again. Two weeks of virtual inactivity has left me cranky and creaky.
I need to move.
Life has a way of imposing its will into things.
So much to do. So I'll make do. Move when I can.
Take care of the rest the best way I can.
Just do it.
And not complain.
(Looking around, I think I've got a night's work to do around the homestead, and we'll see how bad the office desk is, but it shouldn't be too bad.)
There is, however, a smile on my face.
(Wink.)
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