Fuuuuuuuuuck. I feel bad for all of us. We don’t deserve this. We can be good, kind, and loving. Also as weird and wonderful as we want.

Inspector Han: PRESENT PLATE! Looks up, are you really going to eat that? Slow walk away with disgusted tail twitch. Inspector Chewbacca: Oh, heya mum. Watcha gots der? Sniff sniffy sniff wuffle. Meh. Sits beside me with his paw on my lap. Pointedly not looking at my plate. Side eyeing every bite. Doesn’t look disgusted, but makes it clear he’s making sure it doesn’t kill me. Their food: royal canin duck and pea. Chicken allergies in Han. Me: beans, lentils, rice and whatever veg is in the clearance sections. I miss dairy. Their food smells delicious. At least I love beans lol.

In my fifty’s. Lots of anti anxiety prescriptions and antidepressants. I’m doing better now. I feel more like what the inside of my head looks like. YMMV.

Meh. Leaving out the rest of the date. August 29, 1997. Why does everyone worry about the clankers(sarcasm, just in case you’re sensitive) and not about the rich fuckers already controlling everything including those death panels they went on about. I wonder if the clankers would actually be more compassionate than what we have now. I’ll be dead within the decade, doubt I’ll find out.