SHH! The dog just ate bread.
Now we wait.
Apparently I need complete silence to be superstitious. I actually didn't know that about myself until just now. Neither did I know I was superstitious until just now. I had this zany notion that I was actually quite rational. In retrospect, that was probably the least rational notion I ever held right there.
Nobody's rational. Rational is not doable. Our brains are pattern seekers, and that quest is inherently tied to a need for satisfaction. Needs are not rational. I cite 85% of the things you did in puberty as proof of that.
I need this to work, and I'm willing to be however irrational I need to be to make it work. Seriously. I'll play the lottery, buy firming lotions, and marry for love. Whatever it takes.
I need sleep. The dog gagged all night last night. Not scary emergency vet gagging, but ate a blade of grass that wasn't ready to die and has plastered itself to the side of his throat like a masked, beret wearing, stripey shirted burglar gagging. I think maybe.
That or he is sick. I'm not keen on that second option at all.
Don't worry! The internet will save us! Maybe? I dunno. Something said to feed him bread. Yeah, okay. It definitely won't kill him, so I fed him bread.
And he's been silent ever since.
And so have I.
Because somehow my brain has decided that if I never talk again, he will never cough again. Because apparently at some point he coughed right after I'd spoken, and that was enough to convince Dr. Sciencey Proof Finder here that speaking causes dogs to cough. And that only bread can cure them. Or something.
Look, I don't see any logic lining up with ideas that might help me sleep through the night, so this is what we're going with. Okay?
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