The Smell Of Farts And Desperation

This is not a story about covid. This is a story about when I decided to adopt a dog while recovering from covid. You get to decide which has been more stressful. I thought a dog would mean unconditional love and cuddling and yes, an occasional poop in the living room. And also sometimes he would go to the bathroom in the house. But I think I actually got catfished by the dog formerly known as, “Inmate Number 799.”

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Win By Knockout

Last week I got cold-cocked by my freezer door. In that moment of blinding pain and disorientation, clutching my head, I remembered thinking, how mad I was at both my inability to duck oncoming vegetables, and how grateful I was for the sold ground beneath me, which soon came to be my best friend for the better part of half an hour.

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