Wallowing

Cataclysmic earthquakes, apocalyptic heatwaves... For native woo-woo speakers like myself, it's hard to shake the thought that Gaia is finally striking back: Bye-bye, homo sapiens! Extinction now.

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In News of the Here & Now: My thyroxine prescription disappeared from my patient portal for some reason so that I could no longer refill it without camping on the phone with the doctors's office on hold for a fucking hour. This made me feel so humiliated & insignificant that right now, I am literally digging my nails into the palms of my hands to keep from bursting into tears. Like if I had more money, I could go to a doctor who cared about me as something more than a Medicare reimbursement.

An over-reaction?

Sure.

But I feel as though I am totally unimportant and dismissible.

Like the only people who care whether I live or die are Democrats dunning me to contribute money to their campaigns in remote places I do not care about.

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Of course, that feeling is abetted by the fact that Icky is presently in residence. Icky hardly bothers to acknowledge my existence except to email me new charges he wants to add to my rent.

I told him I wasn't going to let Black Chicken out anymore. "It's too dangerous," I said. "I can't take responsibility. I've been visiting her every day, bringing her treats. But she's lonely in that coop."

Icky's solution?

He brought Black Chicken into the house!

Where she strutted around for a couple of hours, clucking piteously.

In particular, the mirror confused her!