There is something entirely ironic in a post about hypothetically dying and asking the reader to 'create you' and you dgaf after that. Like humanity slipping into nihilism right in front of a god.

I too have a 9 year old Charlie who is obsessed with otters (Steve included).

I think now is the time we all start talking loudly about "How great it is that Trump has finally joined our side on the war against Xmas" and just see what happens. I fully intend to blame him for the lack of gifts... and dinner.

Another denial. Call the pharmacy. Call the doctor. Call insurance. Call the nurse. Call insurance. Check the mail. Wait. Walk. Water. Blood. Walk. Water. Leave message. Email. Walk. Water. Give up. Give up? GIVE UP!

I'm not okay. Walk. Water. Blood. Not. Okay. Walk. Water. Blood.

9 inch plate. Half greens, quarter protein, quarter whole grain carbs. Drink water. Keep walking. Alternate jogging/running.

Check the scale. Check the glucometer. Check the soles of your feet.

Keep walking, drink water, check your sugar.

Lancet, strip, beep, walk, jog, run, pear, water, lancet, strip, beep,

Just keep walking. Just do what the doctor says. Just swallow the pills that make you feel like dying. Just walk some more. Just monitor your blood sugar. Drink water. No carbs

But you can't. No matter how hard you try, you're just the fat lady who doesn't deserve to eat, to live, to enjoy life...

And your only decent pair of shoes is wearing out, but still you are out in the weather walking, jogging, running those 3-10 miles a day. Why? Who knows. It's not like that's why you lost those 6 pounds. Maybe you just like pretending you get through this, out run it. Change it.

And of course you a living below poverty level. Like, way below, and food banks will give you loads of Mac and cheese, canned peaches, instant mashed potatoes and hotdogs... all of which you can't eat.