Next stop the medicine cabinet in the kitchen. Yes, my medicine cabinet is in the kitchen, for someone with fibromylagia the wimpy bathroom cabinets just seem to laugh at you and I don't need the irritation. I open it expecting to have no problem finding something to self medicate with and am met with nothing but heartburn pills, Atenolol, Synthroid, the dog's Phenobarbital and empty bottles of the stuff I DID need. What the hell?! Has it really been this long since I stocked up, I know I'm not this healthy. Has my son been making cupcakes with NyQuil, Percogesic and Valarium? Is there a NyQuil thief running amok in the neighborhood? Are the dog's partying on OTC meds while I sleep? Did the aliens take in all just to see how I would react? I wonder how much it's going to cost me to bribe my son into going to WalMart Hell for me? Lacking my sarcasm and amusement of the general public he doesn't appreciate the door greeter's and People of Walmart like I do.
The entire contents of my medicine cabinet this morning. Well minus the pork roast, I didn't realize it was in the background until after I took the picture and somehow it just didn't seem all that important to move it and re-take the picture. So now you know what we are having for dinner too.
Then we have Tucker. I don't know what has happened around here but I think the aliens that came in and injected me with their latest virus experiment also somehow switched the brains of my dogs. Hard to believe that pug Lola is actually being the good one today, that so rarely happens that it deserves a shout out. Chupacabra chihuahua Tucker is trying the last nerve the aliens left me with. This is what I found in my den:
First, for reasons known only to him and the aliens , he moved his toys and one of my house slippers to under the Christmas tree. If I had not caught him in the act I would have swore it was Lola, because...well... it usually is. I gathered up the toys, put them back in his basket, put my slipper under the coffee table with the other one and left the room.
I returned 15 minutes later to get something and again caught him in the act. In protest of my moving his toys he decided to destroy one of my slippers.
To console myself I decide to have one of the Chocolate Oatmeal Cookies I made last night. Now keep in mind I ate several of these last night and noticed nothing "different" about them. Neither did my observant son who also downed several last night. These are a favorite here so I make them a lot. The conversation last night was this, Son: "Mom, these taste even better than they usually do" Me: "They do, don't they? We must just have a craving for them because they taste really good to me too". Now this morning in my alien heightened awareness state I noticed something wasn't quite right:
It seems I forgot to put the cocoa in to make them "chocolate". We now call them Snowman Turds and believe it or not they actually are better without the chocolate. However, it still is rather sad and doesn't attest to our intelligence that we didn't even notice it last night. Maybe the aliens sucked the chocolate out of them during their visit.