When the Stupid Idea is Maybe All You Can Manage Right Now

 Why aren't I writing?

I started writing Edna's story (loosely interpreted to protect the guilty), but honestly, there are parts of it I can't write, even semi-fictionally, until her son is dead. Because some things she told me in confidence and never wanted him to know.

So, there's that.

This morning, I had a random thought, as I do every day, and it was borderline "why the fuck would you even think that?", as they are every day. Then, I thought, "What if I took these weird snippets and wrote a tiny story around them? A story of 100 words or less? And shoot for every day?

Anyway, here's the first one, because while drying my feet after my shower, I thought, "Better not grab your toes like that; they might come off."

Yeah. I apologize in advance. 

Or do I?

Toes

"Shit" she thought, feeling the asymmetrical spheres in her hand under the towel. Sighing, she held her breath and opened the towel. 

Yep. It was her toes.

She lined them up on the edge of the sink, deciding this was a problem for later.

She got dressed, made her coffee, and settled herself on the sofa. 

Silently, Ajax pulled himself up onto the sofa, burrowing into her lap.

Tickling him gently under his chin, she thought, “Well, I guess that doctor was right" and out loud she whispered, "You are totally worth it."

The armadillo blinked, yawned, and fell asleep.