And Manny's quite barfy tonight, perhaps because of eating wet food too fast. He'd not been eating the wet food the last few times, so I'd gone a couple of days without offering him any. Tonight I did again and he went for it. But I think he's been having other digestive issues. Perhaps they both have. And tonight I keep thinking it's because I've not been keeping the floors clean enough.
Perhaps this is a veiled control issue, or a not-so-veiled one, this wanting to take responsibility for shit (and barf) that probably isn't related to my shit.
As part of an exercise one of the things I accomplished today was to catalog physical quirks and habits and preferences and rituals/ticks of mine. The sheer number of little things I could come up with was rather a surprise.
"Know thyself," wrote this KC Star columnist I used to like when I was a kid, "Boring though it may be."
[a little later]
Wow, got his name. Bill Vaughn.
He wrote this poem I had on a bulletin board in my room, called "And So To Bed" or "And So Too Bad," I can't remember which. I think it was about eating toast in bed, but I don't recall for sure. I forget the opening line, but the remainder were:
And know by feel
Or light of dawn
Which side your bed
Is buttered on.
Can you believe that hasn't been archived online for the future people of the world?
He died of lung cancer in 1977, when he was 61. So he was talking about now when he said, "In the next century it will be the early mechanical bird which gets the first plastic worm out of the artificial grass.”