Morning
On the day after the inauguration, I spent the morning binge watching Maron, season four, the season where he’s in rehab. Everyone else I know was at the Women’s March.
After I watched six episodes of Maron, I took a sledge hammer to our old chicken coop. There were no longer any chickens in the chicken coop, but there was a dead rat underneath the chicken coop. I took the dead rat, along with the pieces of the chicken coop, out to the garbage bins in the alley.
One reason I didn’t go to the march was because I slept until 10:30am. I did this because I took a double-dose of anxiety medication the night before. The reasons for the double-dose are embarrassing and beyond the scope of this essay, but they were not related to the inauguration.
Okay, they were a little related to the inauguration.
To be precise, and being more precise in my communication is a skill on which I am working, it was an anti-anxiety medication. A medication to alleviate anxiety. I’m afraid when I said anxiety medication I made it sound like the medication I took was designed to promote anxiety.
Like with chicken coop. Chicken modifies coop. The coop is designed to give the chickens a place to live and grow. Therefore, with anxiety medication, anxiety modifies medication. The medication is designed to give the anxiety a place to live and grow.
Not so! The medication I took was too alleviate the anxiety. To make it go away. I did not want the anxiety, so I took the medication to make it go away.
It worked. Boy howdy. Over eleven hours of sleep.
I was groggy. I went downstairs to look for coffee.
The chickens had been slaughtered humanely and we ate them as pot pie. Delicious.