Thursday, 2 June 2022

Autism & Felony

It's been a funny old day. 

I'm so tired that I'm experiencing the kinda dissociation you get with class A narcotics (which, to clarify, I've had in hospital a few times, not aquired behind a skip from a toothless hustler).  It's not entirely unpleasant.  It feels like my entire body has been prepped for dental surgery and that my limbs don't quite belong to me. Like, if one of my legs fell off, that'd be grand.

To add to the general surrealism, Finian has taken to murdering my rings.

He hasn't mangled my silverware in quite a while, but a damning trail of evidence indicated his guilt.  I use the word 'guilt' advisedly, as he feels a deep and liberating absence of any remorse.  Finian owns his shit with enviable ardour.

I presented him with the remains of one hopelessly deformed, and another semi-devoured, ring.  

To be fair, it was kinda a kangaroo court.  There was no jury, I was the judge, and Finian confessed enthusiastically. 


The trial went something like this;

Me:  Finian, did you eat my rings?

Finian:  Yes!

Me: You are not allowed eat rings.

Finian: Sorry


(for the record, he was not sorry)


I had to devise a solution to the tragic loss of my pleasing, shiny playthings, and to prevent the further digestion of any more.   So I'm wearing all my jewellery til Finian stops eating it.

I cut a curious picture as a sleep-deprived, glittery, pyjama-wearing princess.  My hair's a mess, my skin is drawn, but I'm glamourous AF.  

Maybe bedazzled stupor will become a thing.  We are so ahead of the curve.


my LinkedIn profile pic



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