Today’s haiku for you is brought to you by gastric bypass recovery side effects. You’d think that after a year and almost 11 months I’d have this down, but apparently not today. It was not related to easter in any way, shape, or form though. I promise.
Regurgitation
Is a five syllable word.
It means you’re puking
This time you can see the frozen hamburger patties AND the air fryer in the distance that is full of frozen french fries.
Bon appétit, babie.
Last night while I was searching the house trying to find Lily’s mysterious hiding place, I happened to find an old point and shoot digital camera in Bellana’s room. I think she got it as a gift when she was maybe seven or eight years old. It was just sitting there abandoned so I decided to see if it works. It does. I may be back on the digicam bandwagon. We’ll see.
It’s a GE A950. It works, but it is a really cheap little sucker.
Is there a single thing that leads to uniqueness? Yes, I think, but it’s not something we can see or interact with. It’s not a trait or a characteristic either behavioral or physical. I am not the only tall, red haired, green eyed guy with a weight problem that required surgery to alleviate (or at least temporarily delay), who is a step father to two adults, who is married to the love of his life. There probably aren’t a lot of us who meet all of those things, but there are definitely more than one. None of those things, together or singularly, make me unique.
So what does make us unique? Easy. DNA. Genetics. To misquote Breaking Bad, as most of us do, Science, Bitch! Forgive me for feeling all sciency on this the most holy of christian holidays, but only one of the two topics is actual truth and it ain’t the one about the guy who is his own father who died and came back to life to save humanity from himself. Nope. Not even close.
Right then, let’s all take our unique selves and work our way through our unique days. Happy unique Sunday, everyone.
I found Miss Lilly. A few hours went by but she eventually came out of hiding. She was laying down on the ottoman in the living room, just relaxing like nothing happened. She let me pet her for a few minutes.
Shes fine, everything’s perfectly all right now, we’re fine, we’re all fine here now, thank you, how are you?
Tomorrow is Easter Sunday. We have one plan for the day but I have a few additional things I want to get to.
I think I can manage that.
Until then, I am worried about one of the cats. Lilly. About half an hour ago she made a ton of noise. She was running around like crazy, crashing into things and skidding all over the tiled floor. She somehow got wrapped up in a plastic bag and was absolutely freaking out trying to get untangled. She ran into the bed room where I was sitting up in bed and watching something on my laptop. She then dashed out again and went into hiding. I can’t find her anywhere. I’m worried that she might have hurt herself in her struggles. I’m worried that she might have wrapped the plastic bag around her neck. She hid herself so well though that I can’t seem to find her anywhere. I’m sure she’s okay, but I would like to find her to know for sure.
Poor kitty.
You know you’re old when your wife asks you if you have any interest in going to bed and just sitting up reading for a little while before nodding off for the night…
And it’s not even 8:00pm yet…
And you are absolutely interested. Absolutely.
If you are lucky, like my wife, you get to have lunch at Chef Robbie’s, where the frozen hamburger patties are gourmet and the air fried frozen french fries (not pictured) are superb.
Obligatory morning errands, bakery and grocery shopping post with Hipstamatic App pics.
Inside the Red Head's Head 