Cattywampus and catawampus are used interchangeably. If you check with Webster you’ll probably find catawampus. I prefer Google’s more liberal approach, cattywampus. If you examine the word in more detail, you’ll discover that for my purposes, I should follow Webster’s lead.
That’s how my brain has been since my surgery – catawampus. I’ve been foggy and unable to carry a thought very far. I start to go to a room and forget which room a half dozen times each day. If I remember the room, I forget why I went. There must have been a purpose. Most of the time I end up near one of our bathrooms, so I take a leak just because the opportunity is close at hand.
When I started this I intended to write about my eyes. However, when I began writing this paragraph my initial thought was gone. By the time I got to this portion of the story I’d forgotten everything I planned to write except that they are brown and a bit catawampus.
My issue is directly related to my recent surgery which had a glitch, but that’s a story for another day. I had a double procedure which required double anesthetic. I was down for the count twice in a single day.
Since then, I’ve been a bit catawampus. While I am in this state I won’t be making any large purchases, any life-changing decisions, or signing any important papers. Drinking alcohol is out, so I am able to let the post-surgery drugs I’m taking help clear the medically induced fog. I only have one more day of prescription drugs to take, so the fog should clear shortly.
I’ve started physical therapy and things are going well. My therapist is a cute young blonde. Some images are still seen clearly through the fog.
Our introductory conversation went something like:
Kaitlyn: “I know I look like I’m twelve, but I’m really twenty-six.”
Me: “No. My granddaughter is twelve, so I know what twelve looks like. Her brother is fourteen and a half. He’d think you were perfect for him.”
There’s nothing catawampus about that boy.