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Back in graduate school, one of our cats (Ya-Ya) was acting out and attacking the other cat. Like all cats, he is pretty terrified of the vet. We took him anyway, and they suggested a pet psychologist. (You know where this is headed, right?) So the pet psychologist comes into the vet examination room, and there is our cat on the vet table. The pet psychologist starts talking to us. She couldn’t talk to the cat, but she hardly even interacted with him. It was all about modifying our behavior. She said a lot of things that presupposed we lived in a big apartment with lots of space and could do all sorts of stuff to the cat that we really couldn’t do. She went on and on talking to us. For a like half an hour. Eventually, we all look down and our cat has fallen asleep on the cold, metal table in the terrifying vet office.

Waste. Of. Money.

I tell you this story because at one point in today’s treatment, while attached to a cold, metal table and immobilized via a form-fitting mask with a mouthpiece, I caught myself dozing off. So now I know how my cat must have felt. Alas, it also means I made no progress on learning the long middle part of the routine. There’s always tomorrow.

I have not much else to report. The weekend was largely uneventful, somewhat social and I felt okay, and Monday there was no beam. I’m getting some of my own work done and making some music. We are also hooked on the hockey playoffs now, though Game 1 was a real bust.

Today’s Symptom Haiku:

Drowsy after beam
No immediate effects
Psychosomatic?