Post-crisis shower.

I just got out of the shower. It was cathartic, washing off the mud caked on my feet and elbows. It was like I had purged off the day. I prettied myself for no one in particular. I shaved and plucked my eyebrows. I bathed myself in avocado oil. I scrubbed my feet until they were a soft as a baby's.

I might be the cleanest, softest, best-smelling girl in Arizona.

I also took inventory of my injuries. I hadn't noticed any before. There is a scrape on top of my foot where my shoe dug into the skin. I have little marks on my hand where the chain link got me. There are some gnarly looking bruises and cuts on the inside of my right thigh, and a long thin scrape on the side of my left breast. I don't know where those came from. Probably when I wrestled Candy to bring her inside.

My arms are very sore. I hadn't noticed that until after I showered either. It is probably from lifting a 40 lb dog who was essentially dead weight over my head in order to get him out of the neighbor's yard.

I was also very tense all day, I'm sure that didn't help.

I'm kind of glad I got hurt. It makes it seem more real, like it really actually happened. Instead of it being a bad dream, constantly replaying itself in still-frame images in my mind.

I cannot coherently tell the story. My timeline is all screwed up.

I am watching "Klute" and I am going to eat some Chicken soup. What I really want is a glass of wine.

I am still trembling.