Tag Archives: cat

Day twelve: bad timing

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Two pints. Oh I am weak. Not even twelve days into January and water disguised as beer has parted my lips and walked on my tongue: bless me bloggers for I have sinned. I have many meagre excuses and stories of why, some involving Albino Hamster, some involving cat, mostly involving lack of will power and a hot & sour soup…all of which I am looking forward to sharing. My arms still ache due to Wednesdays Tabata, my eyes ache from writing to strangers, my ears ache from Ol’milky red eyes in its wheel. It appears to have gotten louder, the wheel that is, spinning out of control (like the tabloids chasing a celebrity pervert) it picks up momentum and only shows signs of gathering more pace….a noisy guest if ever I have had one.
…A question, whom or who or what/when/why was the noisiest guest you ever had the misfortune of inviting into your abode?

As it is Sunday tomorrow I will pray. I will pray for all the idiots in the world as there are many. I look forward to explaining my lack of will power and planning out some more mid-life crisis.

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Day eight: Cats got a bite

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I was in a flap yesterday, not of the cat variety, how ironic that would have been. It was back to work ultramarine blues.  My full wrath of anger and bellyaching will come over the coming weeks, but not tonight: I am letting it swell into a mightier force, a tsunami of ill temper that I will unleash.  Remember this mid-life crisis comes early and it is planned.  No hasty decisions here.  Things on my agenda will include staffroom protocol… my blood boils.

I see the cat had a go yesterday instead of me, did a fair job too, perhaps we should form a coalition and scrawl together.  What do you think cat?… She’s not paying attention, she’s back on the hard stuff today. Biscuits that is, not heroine or smack but to her it’s probably just as good. Moments earlier the biscuits fell into her band-aid coloured bowl, it was a scene from a parachute drop in third world gratuity land – although with a cat and no helicopter, and due to personal preference as opposed to famine and desperation.

Snaffling and biting her way through the meaty atoms with aplomb she screams like a diva:

I-AMS a GO-CAT!

Yes you are.

***I had aspirations to blog everyday this year, but eight days in and already the cat is passing me a white flag purrrring for me to wave it aloft and have done with it.  The beers are doing exactly the same but so far I have been controlled.

I shall depart for the evening.  I am brewing a decaf tea for the other half, her new thing…

both cat and I will be on the look out for withdrawal symptoms.

What’s that cat? You’re passing her the white flag too?  Give her half a chance, she reads this.

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