Charlie has become gatekeeper to the rediscovery of my withered intellectual pursuits and deflated attention span. She rouses at me if I try to watch Netflix. Television is a no-go in all forms. It rots my brain, and distracts from the more important issues (a cockatoo, of course). So I'm reading books instead. Typical. The things that nearly kill us are also the things we need to grow.
Either that or not only will she not let me breathe but also she's denying me the right to switch off my brain for an hour… or another decade. Same difference.