I'm the squirrel's breakfast.

Dreams post lyme infection have always been interesting, but on both the zith and the minocycline, I’m never sure what the night will hold.

Take last night as a common example.  Squirrels.  Come in the house, live with me (because they lived with the lady who owned the house previous to me) and when I scold them, they begin to eat my head.

Convinced that they will eat my brain if left to their own wishes, I bag them and threaten to take them to live in a suburb that hosts a large petrochemical company.

Ha!  Got ’em.  No tellin’ what tonight will hold.  I’m up, the kid is out the door and I am ready to face a bad cold in the other, intense abdominal pain and a house that once again looks like an explosion went off in it.

One moment at a time.

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