What to do while awaiting your disability lawyer

I have two and a half hours to kill until my lawyer comes to my house. I have all my papers, my meds are lined up in alphabetical order, as per my OCD commands them to be. I lit a candle so the smell of smoke and dog isn’t assaulting to her nostrils.  (Cranberry Woods is good for new beginnings)

I am freshly showered, wearing my best sweatpants. Do I look like an invalid? Maybe I shouldn’t have taken the pain med. Shit. I wanted to appear au natural. Whatever, too late now. Perhaps my dazed expression will add to my case.

If you told me two years ago I would be doing this, I would have laughed until I pissed myself. My my, how things can change so fucking fast.

I’m not bitter. Really.

I will have to put my dog in solitary for a while, because if I don’t, she will jump up on the ladies pantsuit. That would be cool, but this is not the time.

Luckily the house isn’t as clean as usual. If it was, she might think I was faking all this shit. The first time a few dirty dishes and doggy tumbleweeds work in my favor. My friend is coming over for moral support. Hopefully she will keep me on track so I don’t try and make a big joke of it.

I probably shouldn’t mix pain pills and beer, huh?

Well, will see where it goes.