For the last 30 minutes I've been sitting on the couch scrolling through old entries and staring at my Christmas tree. Every color of the rainbow twinkles through it. It's a fake tree. We've always had fake trees in my family. I liked it better that way - nature wasn't disrupted and we can just pack it away and say "see you later" at the end of the year, versus hauling out some unnecessarily dead thing out to the trash.
I hate getting flowers. No flowers at my funeral, lovelies. Don’t compound death. Just donate to animal related causes.
Often when I look at real Christmas trees and bouquets of flowers, I think "Here's something that's not growing anymore because we decided it was beautiful."
Now here’s a thought I’m able to have since I’m not dead - I should go to the Dallas Arboretum. Probably alone since I only know about… 3 people and I can’t drag the cat, now can I? That would be a lively outing.
Mal is in my lap looking content and oh so sleepy. She is my reason for living, working, and trying. Sometimes I call her my best friend, other times I call her my fur child. Usually I just call her by her nonsensical nicknames (or sing her the Malaroni and Cheese song).
Here’s a tentative smile: I got an injection and am feeling moderate improvement. A sign of my age. It’s all downhill from here.
“and it’s all downhill from here.” - 🎵 (another sign of my age)
Being 34 and doing everything to avoid male attention (with success) makes me feel a little less like prey.
When they decide I’m beautiful, one of them will probably decide to destroy me.
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