Chickity Chyna

It’s difficult to get ready in the morning when tears wash off make-up faster than you can apply it. In the last few days, I’ve shed plenty of tears, but then I cry easily. That I should be crying this morning is really no big surprise… but in this case, the source was not watching Zach Braff yelling from the top of construction equipment into an infinite abyss. Chyna’s health took a sharp decline last night; I found her in my side of the closet, lower half immobilized, fur matted in urine, crying in her broken mrower when she saw me. That I had to come in to work today pisses me off considerably… and leaves me feeling even guiltier and miserable-er. Because I slept in this morning, allotting absolutely no extraneous time, I couldn’t lay down on the closet floor by her for a few moments. I couldn’t even handle getting ready in the bathroom next to her. I had to isolate myself in the other downstairs bathroom where she could not hear me and start crying again. The last thing I wanted was to have to act like a heartless bastard. …She’s still alone now, abandoned, until Aaron or I can get off work early. …. sigh …. Thank goodness for Simon & Garfunkel; they're helping me out today.