One super fun thing that happened last week that I forgot to mention - my Mummy brought SB and I some super yummy lobster! We had a fabulous feast on Thursday evening, and it was AWESOME.
When I was little, I would only eat the "Little Legs" of the lobster - I liked to squish the meat out using my teeth. Then I graduated to eating those and claws, when they were properly cracked for me. I eventually was able to crack them myself. A few years ago I got over my phobia of eating the tail - the digestive tract runs along the top of the tail, and I was always terrified I would accidentally eat part of it and die. But now I am confident in my poop-peeling ability.
I still refuse to eat anything in the body/head of the lobster. SB tried to get me to dig into the meat on the side of the "ribs", but I kept getting these crunchy parts which really skeeved me. And don't get me started on the gross green stuff. Once I got all crazy and tried the red eggs, but quickly spit them out. So dry and gross they remind me of peas, which I HATE. Not that they taste like peas, but the texture is close.
I remembered the lobster feast this morning, and smiled. But I remembered it because I scratched my hands up breaking open the tail. And that memory was triggered by the fact that I spent the morning trying to give an insulin injection to a pissed off cat, who then scratched up my entire arm and hand, then shit in the closet.
I'm not loving my job so much this week.