So, you have noticed, by now, that I stopped counting chicken bones. It was just too depressing. I’m working on a linear regression model to predict the number of chicken bones I should see, the number that should be eaten, and the number that should be spit out on a daily basis, and will keep track that way. (Sadly, I’m not kidding about that.) The problem is that now the data is fuzzy, because I’ve taken to carrying Snausages and/or Beggin Strips (dogs don’t know it’s not bacon!) in my coat pockets to bribe Lou to spit out the bones. Whatever. The whole endeavor was kind of sad.
Tomorrow (today, later, really) is the day I find out about what that thing is growing in my belly. We all know I ain’t pregnant (unless technology has advanced to the point that you can get inseminated just by contact on the bus (it’s often quite close, so …). I am praying it’s just a fibroid, but my Lord, it is big. The NP who examined me actually said, “Whoa.” And, now that I know it’s there, I can’t help touching it — it feels like … well, you know how in the cartoons, Foghorn Leghorn would swallow a ham and you could see the outline of it in his belly? It feels like, and looks like (I saw it myself in the mirror at Marshall’s – gross all around) I swallowed a Fuji apple, or a tangerine, and it’s just haning out over my right hip. Gross. And, even more crazy is that I was so stuipd, I just thought I was firming up my lower abdominals through the power of positive thinking and sporadic leg lifts — no, that firmness was all about the tumor! Double gross. I have to believe it’s something simple — I can’t be broke, miserably displaced AND have bad health! The two former are bad enough. Cross your fingers. I’d cross mine, but I don’t want to cut off any important circulation before the MRI!
In other news: Eula is moving forward. I’m at a stand still on Uptown Hound right now, waiting for money to come in so I can pay for operating expenses that American Express is anxious to have remuneration for. The UH website is still planned to go live on April 15, but we’ll see if I have the cash to make that happen. It’s weird, because I don’t want to live here, but I still want to make this business work in NYC — I need a partner so I can be bought out by the end of the year. I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it, I suppose. I think the retail operations will still work no matter where I live, so that’s something to keep the endeavor going for me. Olive continues to plod along.
Okay, Lou is snoring to beat the band — sleeping half on the bed and half in the window well. He is having a hard time wtih his hot spots. I don’t know what else to do for him — not sure what he could be allergic to, but I am REALLY resisting the recommendations of my vet and other busy bodies that he needs a companion. I ain’t got 2-dog money. Oh, now he’s awake again — probably knew I was typing about him — so, I’ll take this opportunity to salve him up before bed. Later – j.