Smallish Bloggery, Day 5: 5-Senses Check-In

Right now, in this moment, 

I see

…Stella eating her nightly snack and Owen, Rabi, and Gypsy angling to steal bites of it.  I can see my bedroom, whose floor is clean because Das BFF vacuumed today like a champion, but I can see the dust layering over everything that doesn’t move.  I see my unfolded laundry and the shoes that Shelly will likely steal throughout the day tomorrow.  I see my Macbook.  I see the great big gouges in my thigh where Owen clawed me this evening after a noise spooked him and he fursploded all over my lap. I see my fingers on the keyboard, speedy and nimble, even though they tremble when I lift them from the keys.  My hands are still one of my favorite parts of my body.

I hear

…the air conditioner blessedly chugging along.  Stella’s ID tag tapping on the side of her bowl. I hear my ceiling fan and the other machines that whir and hum throughout the house to keep us comfortable and fed every day. I am deeply grateful for those machines, especially the AC, without which  surviving in Texas summers would be even more miserable.  I hear my stomach making noises that remind me if I go too long without eating vegetables or fruits, something as innocent as a slice of apple can send my whole system into a revolt.  I can also hear David Attenborough narrating Blue Planet faintly in the living room.  I can also hear the occasional boom-pop of firecrackers – but at least it rained most of the day, so the whole neighborhood won’t go up in flames.

I smell

…Triloka’s “Enchanted Forest” incense sticks, which are basically the official smell of my bedroom.  Thankfully I do not smell cat pee; someone pissed on my rug a few days ago, and I haven’t been able to find the source of the smell but I’ve been hosing down the rug with Odo-Ban and I think it’s finally faded.  ETA they did it again today, so I feel like I have to strike that part.  I can also smell my deodorant; I switched to a “man” smell a while back because I don’t want to smell like flowers and the “man” smells are much more the sort of thing I like.  Woods, resins.  I am a forest, not a basket of fucking peonies.  

I taste

…the Coke Zero I used to take my meds a minute ago.  I still haven’t quite mastered taking pills with water, especially handfuls of them. I couldn’t swallow pills at all until my 20s; back when I got menstrual cramps bad enough to make me spend two days crying, I had to take eight Advil at a time ground up in a pill crusher, in a spoonful of chocolate milk.  I’ve never figured out why I had so much trouble with pills, but I’m glad I mostly got over it.  I still have trouble with water, though.  

I feel

…my bed underneath me, sooooo comfortable, even though there are bits of kitty litter grit here and there that I keep finding with my toes.  I feel those gouges in my leg, sore and stinging under another layer of antibiotic ointment.  I feel a patch of hair on the back of one leg that I missed with the razor. I feel physically comfortable, and emotionally pleased with my day off even though I didn’t feel well for most of it.  I still feel the headache I’ve had for three days now, though at the moment it’s at a low thanks to the Advil/pseudoephedrine combo I threw at it. I feel a cat jump up on the bed and start making biscuits in the quilt over my feet.  I feel myself smile.

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