There are so many rotten things that happened today that I don't even know where to begin. It began with Maxie Boy, once again, very early in the morning, needing to go poopers. Again, it was humid and warm, felt all wrong outside. Coming back in was nearly purifying. Poor Maxx, he doesn't know when or where to go these days. And where is all this poopy coming from?

Three days ago, at five AM, when this all started, his little Highness awakened me by the sound of his clicked-ty clacked-ty, nails slowly sneaking out of our bedroom and down the hallway, towards the frontdoor. Normally, to get Maxx out of bed, Stevie has to pick him up and carry him to the front door. When he is put down, he very slowly bows down, leaving his butt up, and stretches way out. Then he is ready for his halter and walk.

So when I saw Maxie sneaking out on his own, I was worried, and got right up and followed him. It was a war zone of doggy doo. The hallway was a mess of mounds, which where fresh scat, imagine that, and therefore, a big mess to clean up. 'Nuff said there, w/o making anyone puke. Then I hear Stevie call out from the front hallway, by the door: There's more over here. I am seeing now as I write that my bad day began a few days ago. Well I wrote to Rebecca, in an attempt to not got crazier than I presently am, a hint from Hell-oise, a columnist who's been telling people things like how to get tar off your hair for decades now. Maybe it is like Dear Abby, and Heloise has retired and someone else is writing. I would love to take over her column. And make up my own tips. Most would use peanut butter...

OK, back to work. My really bad artists' life. The dog poop. Here is how to best get it off a throw rug. Gently grasp a corner of the rug with one hand, while the other awaits delivery of the 'gift' in a gloved hand which is holding a piece of toilet paper. You then tip back the carpet, and bingo, the poop rolls out into your waiting hand. You gag, race to the bathroom, and flush. Repeat as many times as necessary. Another tip is to let the stuff air dry for awhile if possible. That way it doesn't stick during this procedure.

I have been cleaning doggie doo for 50 years. I am proud to say those words. I like George Carlins' little sketch about how aliens coming to Earth would be certain dogs were the leaders because humans follow behind them, picking up their feces! Their royal honored feces at that. What a notion, it still makes me laugh.

Onwards through my rotten miserable day. The IRS is hot on our trail. Makes me laugh. And cry too. I mean, there is no money period. Apparently. I don't know how this happens but it has and rather than linger, I would like to move on, and think up some extremely clever idea. Immediately. My first idea shows how lame I am: start buying lottery tickets.

Next and hopefully, the bitter end of miserable was my visit to the doctor. Happens every month, should be no surprises there. First one occurred at the weight/measure station. I have shrunk 1/4". I am no long a member of those who can say I am 5'3". I am not longer so lofty as to reach the 3" line. Stretched twice, and could only make it to 2 3/4". So now I am
5" 2 3/4" tall. I feel chopped off, as though I was quite a bit taller before. Perhaps since I ruptered a disk in my back this past Christmas day, picking up tiny ZZ, that I shrank, because the disc is gone, or mostly. Maybe that whole mess with my back sliced off 1/4 inch, but it has an emotional impact for sure.

Also got some asthma medication, which I haven't needed in years, along with a spacer, so you don't blast yourself off the planet with the thing. As a retired respiratory therapy tech, I taught a lot of people how to use these contraptions, and they are quite useful. Expecially so as not to have the albuterol hit your uvula with max g-force. But also helpful in getting more medicine per spray inhaled. We are so broke, I wonder what that will cost. I wish I had stolen one when I worked in the hospital, and I hate myself for having such creepy thoughts.

Last new medicine I got was new hormones. So as I can hopefully end the night sweats. Oh yes, I wake up several times a night to change my 'night wear'. It is very annoying also, and I shiver and shake while changing, but am sweating like a pig when I wake up. Being a woman has never struck me as one bit of fun, except for being a mother. That is the most cool thing I have ever done.

Now this final part of my visit to the doctors office will amaze my lady friends, and the heck with men. I haven't had a Pap smear in too long. It just got by me, and well, it's not my favorite thing, and OK, the nurse and I were talking, and it came out, and she was like Bingo! Gothcha! next month, we do it. So next month was this month, and I had taken off all my clothes except my socks, which I never take off for Pap smears. Makes me feel safer with them on. I was wearing my enormous 'johnny' and sitting on a flat platic diaper. Drapped over my lap, a paper sheet. To my left, a bunch of stuff that was going to be used in me, or to hold specimens of me. Yuck, yuck and yuck. I hated looking at all that stuff, but I figured, who cares, my doc will be back in a second. Only 15" went by, and then 20", the 25" and finally 30".

I put my clothes back on, after unsticking my butt from that plastic diaper. No wonder babies are always crying, and Maggie is almost always laughing. Her little tiny bottom isn't stuck to plastic, as her mama & papa, Matt and Miriam are using clothe diapers for her. I know R wanted to do that also, but with the twins, that wasn't possible. Not even in her dreams, as far as I could see. Those two took as much care as four babies. Or eight. Or maybe more when they started crying and just couldn't calm down. Oh I love them so. I could sprinkle a little sugar on them...Well I wander and I have a story to tell.

How can I be angry at my doctor? I am not. She kept saying she was sorry sorry sorry, but I said: I have held you up and kept you from other patients before. You need not apologize. I just had to go, and put my clothes on. I wasn't comfortable dressed that way anymore, not even in the 1st place, and Stevie was waiting for me, and I was developing increasing anxiety about the exam itself, and on & on. So no one was angry but I wasn't happy either. I wonder what all those Rx's will cost...