consider it therapy

Despite my gimp status, I am thankfully at least able to shower, though I usually have to put my foot up right after and “rest.”

Today, I sat on a chair  so I could elevate my foot up on the bed.  And then I saw it.  On the bed.  In the middle, where I couldn’t reach it.  Cat barf.

Over the last several of days I have been medium good about not obsessing chores I can’t do – in no small part because Scott and Sophie, knowing my aversion (to put it mildly) to clutter, have been picking things up with devotion (so. very. grateful.).

But this was a real test of my OCD.

So I decided this would be good medicine for me.  I needed to leave it (for now).   I really had no choice anyway.  Being laid up is tough; trying to see it as an exercise in letting go helps.  A little.

Thanks for the therapy, Oliver.

This entry was posted in anxiety inducing, good thing you're so cute. Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to consider it therapy

  1. Erica says:

    You need to get another cat so he has someone else to blame things on.

  2. ScottD says:

    Just do what I do – lift the dog up on the bed to snarf down the barf. All clean!

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