I woke up late this morning in the WalMart parking lot (every time I say “WalMart parking lot” it makes me think of a song, Country Boy Can Survive, that was way overplayed at this little biker bar I used to work at in WV). Almost ever since my friend who is a very wise herbalist woman showed me how to eat and told me what to eat for my body and made me a tincture that helps my dopamine and thyroid and stuff, I’ve been sleeping less and waking up more easily. So I was expecting to wake up this morning around ten, but it was actually noon when I rolled outta bed, and I felt kinda foggy. Probably a result of not eating so good yesterday.
I took Bro for a little walk, saw the neatest junky car with things piled all over it and covered in graffiti. I couldn’t tell if someone lived in it or out of it, but it was definitely one of the two. I wish my computer wasn’t so screwed up by Vista and I could post a picture of it here.
Took Bro back to the car and fed him breakfast, brushed my teeth, washed last nights make up off, looked for my brush and realized that it was in my stripperella bag that I left at work, so I just put my hair up in a clip. I went into WalMart and returned my XP CD and got some stuff for breakfast. Every morning while I shop for my food for the day I mourn the lack of food that isn’t laden with pesticides, preservatives, growth hormones, and steroids in this town. Would it be unreasonable of me to only work in towns with health food stores?
I sat on the bench outside the store and drank my yohgurt and ate my turkey leg in the wind. Except that my turkey leg was not cooked in the middle. So I took it back and proceeded to the van, where I was met with an awful smell. Bro had had diahhrea all over his crate. Good thing he was in the crate, at least it’s cleanable. So I took him out, extracted the food dish which had been sitting in shit, and removed the crap-covered ball, which Bro promptly grabbed from my hand and wiped on my pants. Luckily I have endless patience and don’t get too upset by these things. So I start cleaning out the crate (picture me half way in it, reaching for the pile of liquid shit in the back which is all mixed up with the water and food that he spilled in it), when suddenly I hear the sound of the ball rolling away. I jumped out of the van and the wind is blowing the ball across the parking lot. I take off after the ball. Bro, being tied to the van, barks his encouragment. The wind is blowing really fast and hard. Several cars stop when the ball rolls in front of them and laugh at me when I run by in hot pursuit. By the time I catch the ball it’s two parking lots down, and Bro barks at me the whole time I’m walking back.
Then I run out of paper towels. So I go back into WalMart in my shitty pants and get more. A little more scrubbing and things are clean.
Now my sleeping sweatpants are dirty, but I don’t have enough other laundry for a load. Oh well, it was an excuse to put on my favorite pretty skirt.
Normally I don’t use paper towels (the idea of using the carcasses of beloved trees in this way offends me), but this is a situation where I make an exception. Ditto for bleach.
I wonder what’s up with Bro’s stomach? About a month ago he had diahhrea for a few days, which we cleared up with some Lavender tincture (Lavender is astringent – it dries up the extra fluid in the stomach). Then a few days ago he had a little diahhrea, and I gave him some chammomile and it went away. This morning I gave him water with lavender (astringent), wormwood (bug killing), and black cohosh (probably not the best choice, but hopefully will stop stomach cramping) in it.
Then I came to the coffee shop to check my email and there was a wonderful email from a wonderful friend.