It’s interesting how the effect of having surgery extends
beyond the physical difficulties encountered by the affected part. It shakes
your whole sense of well being. Your life force becomes dimmed, leaving you
feeling sick, shaky, and even depressed.
I’m only just realising how emotional surgery does the same
thing. Excising a person who’s got under your skin deeper than you’d imagined
isn’t unlike having a bullet removed. Sick, shaky, depressed even.
The piece of toast liberally laden with houmous didn’t help.
Time to self-medicate.
I promised the Red Renault I’d give him a wash tomorrow. He
was out in the rain yesterday and got filthy. He’s looking a bit sorry for
himself, poor thing.
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