Tonight I came home to find a string of half dried shit-pearls hanging out of my cat's ass. Best guess is that she ate one of my hairs. I envisioned her sprinting about the apartment, ricocheting off the walls in fear of whatever the fuck was chasing her before she wore herself out and succumbed to the shame of dragging those anal beads behind her. I couldn't venture to guess what surfaces the shit has touched, but rather than breaking my busted back bleaching my entire apartment I have resigned to live in filth, taking extra care to wash my hands before putting them in my mouth, at least for the next few days until the poisonous aspects of the poop molecules (or at least my memories of them) have been rendered inert.
I had another MRI this Saturday. When the scan was over and I was allowed to move again, the tech asked me if I knew I had fibroids. I said yes, I am aware of them, and we proceeded to swap pants-pissing stories because she has them, too.
These are the highlights of my weekend.
All pictures and words copyright Anna Horvitz (me) and cannot be used without my consent.
