Wait, What?

Although I miss my cats, Grumpy and Dopey, I do not want the commitment of being a slave pet owner for the foreseeable future. I do however, have a permanent reminder, courtesy of Dopey, in the form of a scar on one of my feet.

I'd returned home from work around lunchtime one day, and as it was summer time, the first thing I did was to open the kitchen door and the door to the conservatory to let some fresh air into the house.

After changing out of my uniform into shorts, t-shirt and flip flops, I sat down to chill out for a while with my iPad, catching up on the news, Facebook, emails, yada yada. Then I heard Dopey making the uh-oh-I'm-going-to-chuck-up noise.

I jumped up, ran into the kitchen to grab the kitchen towel, saw her crouching in the conservatory and moved swiftly to place the towel on the floor in front of her.

What I didn't see, was that she'd already thrown up in the doorway. The reason for this oversight was due to the disgustingly patterned kitchen flooring that had came from an era that taste forgot. I can only think that the previous owners of my house were either a)colour blind or b)got the flooring on the cheap and thought, "Meh, that'll do". It was truly vile (and I lost no time in ripping it up after the demise of both of the cats).

My flip-flopped right foot slid on the pile of puke, causing me to look like something out of a cartoon with arms windmilling. I then bounced against the side of the kitchen worktop and my left foot shot forward and wedged itself underneath the lip of the door.

An aluminium door that sliced my foot open a treat.

The only way to remove my foot was to pull it backwards, which opened up the wound further - and yes, there were a copious amount of obscenities uttered.

I realised I needed to get to hospital so it could be stitched and that I needed help to get there, but as it was a Saturday, was Youngest Daughter at home?

Of course not.

So I looked for my phone. Was it in the kitchen with me?

Of course not.

With a fair amount of, "Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck," to be heard, I sort of hopped to the living room, dripping blood all over the place, grabbed my phone and called Youngest Daughter. Did she answer?

Of course not.

I lost count of the amount of times I tried calling her, getting more and more irritated that she wasn't answering.

So, Plan A had to be abandoned, therefore I had to turn to Plan B: Phone A Friend.

Thankfully, I managed to get hold of my friend, Blunt One ("Fuck me, that looks awful!"), who drove me to A & E and stayed until Youngest Daughter eventually turned up.

After being triaged, watching the raised eyebrows after explaining exactly how it happened ("Cat vomit? Cat?! Vomit?!"), x-rayed to make sure there were no bits of aluminium door in my foot, I then got shown into a room where a doctor was going to stitch it up.

He was quite chatty with Youngest Daughter and I while he was cleaning my wound and during the course of our conversation, I told him I'd never had stitches before. He had to pop out of the room to get something or another, but as he stood in the doorway, with a grin on his face he said, "Don't worry, you will enjoy it!" And then he swept out of the room, with the door closing behind him.

*Blink*

What?

Youngest Daughter and I picked our respective jaws up off the floor, looked at each other in stunned surprise, in a wtf? sort of way, then burst out laughing.

I can't say that I actually enjoyed getting four stitches in my foot, but every time I look at the scar I hear the words, "Don't worry, you will enjoy it!"

And it makes me laugh.

My New Medicine Cabinet

I wish. *wink*



Oh, It's A Dirty Job But Someone's Gotta Do It

And that someone’s gotta be me.

I have discovered, since Youngest Daughter left for Majorca in May, that I am actually a tidy person. This has caused me some amazement – finally, after approximately a quarter of a century as a wife and mother, I find out it wasn’t really me who was untidy, it was everyone else! (That's my excuse and I'm sticking to it.)

For years I’d resigned myself to the fact that we were all just a bunch of people with some very messy habits (most of the time I ended up taking the feck-it-if-you-can’t-beat-‘em-join-‘em option, it was easier on my blood pressure).

When I say messy habits, I don’t mean health hazard standards. Our house wouldn’t have been a contender for How Clean Is Your House – some of the houses featured on that programme made me gag. Literally. On the upside though, it made me feel positively house-proud by comparison.

No flat surface escaped having piles of crap heaped on them, whether it be the living room, kitchen, bedroom, conservatory or hallway. It was also a common sight in our house to have engine parts and various tools on the kitchen worktops.

Significant Other used to scribble phone numbers onto backs of envelopes or scraps of paper, and woe betide me if I moved them.

Every now and then, I’d go into argh-I-can’t-stand-living-in-this-shithole-any-longer mode, get the right hump and tidy up. If I was lucky, the neatness lasted a day. But then I’d get, “Bub, where’s the bit of paper with so-and-so’s number on it? You tidied up, so you MUST know where it is.”

“For feck’s sake,” would be my reply. “Try looking in that two foot high pile of paper and shit next to your chair. You might find it there.”

After going through the heap of paper and shit:

SO: Bu-ub.

Me: Hmm?

SO: It’s not there.

Me: Oh for feck’s sake.

SO: You must have thrown it away.

Me: Oh for feck’s sake.

SO: I really need that number.

Me: Oh for feck’s sake.

SO: For feck’s sake, stop saying ‘oh for feck’s sake’. You’re not being helpful.

Me: Okay. Bloody hell.

I’d then go through the papers, find the relevant envelope/bit of paper and hand it over with a final, “Oh for feck’s sake.”

Before you ask, on several occasions I tried to introduce the novelty concept of an address book.

Failed.

Children, being children, aren’t tidy creatures. As both the girls got older, they went through phases of keeping their bedrooms tidy. This tidiness did not extend to the rest of the house.

These phases didn’t last too long. I ended up taking the view that if that was how they wanted their rooms to be, if they wanted to wade through piles of shite, then so be it. I had enough shite to wade through in the rest of the house.

Since Youngest Daughter has been away, I’ve tidied and it still surprises me not to find bags, shoes, jackets, jewellery, magazines or whatever on my return to the house after I’ve been out.

I have however, not touched the pit formerly known as her bedroom.

She was going to come home early due to being very homesick, but has since changed her mind after being moved to a different resort (Magalluf a.k.a. Shagalluf – I’m not even touching that one. There are some things a mother doesn’t need or want to know), and will be staying for another three months.

Her pit is calling to me. I can ignore it no longer.

I think I need to get a decontamination suit before I go in there. If I can’t get one of those, at the very least I need those long rubber gloves like the vets wear when they need to stick their arm up a cows arse carry out an examination on a large animal.

I may be gone for some time.

Oh.

Those two foot high piles of paper?

I miss them.

A Sideways Look At Life With My Cats

I enjoy sharing my house with my two female cats, Grumpy and Dopey. While writing the previous post, I realised they could quite easily take over, so here they get an entire post dedicated to them.

When changing a duvet cover, make sure at least one cat jumps inside it to help you. Then spend quality time inside the duvet cover with your cat, trying to get it out without your feline friend putting a full set of claws through the cover or yourself.

When eating your dinner while watching TV, leave the tray on the sofa and go into the kitchen to get yourself a drink. On your return, you'll find at least one of your cats enjoying the extra meal you've carefully prepared for them.

Encourage your cats to bring frogs/mice/birds into the house. The whole family finds this an exhilarating and bonding experience.

Sometimes you should allow your cat to creep onto your pillow while you're asleep at night. When you wake up, you can look lovingly at the view of your cat's arse an inch from your face.

Let your cat curl up and sleep on the black skirt you've laid on the bed ready to wear later. White cat fur on a black skirt will start a new fashion trend. To cover all bases, let your black cat leave her fur on your cream blouse. This is a good look too.

Your cat is a frustrated interior designer. Congratulate her for redesigning your net curtains after chasing a fly.

Keep your cat entertained by letting her watch you peel yourself off the ceiling, after she's lovingly wound her way around your legs and managed to trip you up. The best time for her to do this is after you've had an operation and have stitches. In return, you can watch your cat covering her ears with her paws when you decide, there and then, to rename her Multiplying Little Cat Without A Named Father (work it out).

Your daughter's boyfriend picks up a stray malteser from the floor. Watch how much pleasure he displays when he quickly realises it's not a malteser...

Your cat wants you to have a cat's eye view of places. Helping you get up close and personal with the floor is one of the ways she achieves this objective.

Descending the stairs with an armful of items is made more interesting when, unseen by you, your cat places herself on the last but one tread. She wants to aid you and your items get down quicker.

If you want to test your hearing and see how strong your stomach is, try to distract your cat to save the mouse she's playing with in the garden. Watch her quickly kill the mouse and then listen with relish to the crunchy noises.

You don't need to set an alarm to wake you in the morning. You'll be just as happy to be roused by your cat putting her cold, wet nose in your armpit. As a snooze alarm, let your cat walk across your face.

In the course of packing your suitcase for your holiday, your cat will decide she wants to go with you. She demonstrates this by jumping in and going to sleep in there.

Do not expect your cats to show any pleasure on seeing you when you return from your holiday, until they're hungry. Then, and only then, will you feel and hear the full force of their love for you.

During the middle of the night, while you have no carpet on your stairs, you can listen with amusement to your cats running up and down them, making sure they sound like a herd of elephants.

Watch one of your cats sniggering at the other one when it's time to go to the v.e.t.'s. You'll think you're being very inventive as you try to entice her into the cat carrier, but you'll be surprised at how much more inventive your cat can be while dodging the cat carrier. You can also marvel at just how many claws your cat has and what she can dig them into.

Get yourself a tropical fish tank. Your cats will think you've bought them an interactive television.

When walking to the bathroom in the middle of the night, don't wear slippers. This allows you wake up properly after you get cat sick between your toes, which has been delicately left just outside your bedroom door.

Let your cat show you how intelligent she is when she hisses at a cat door stop.*

Get two cats as pets who really don't like each other. Your legs will be useful as somewhere to hide behind, ensuring they get swiped first.

On a sunny day, leave your back door open. Later, walk into your kitchen to unexpectedly find a dog in there. Observe your cats suddenly becoming temporary best friends, united in a common cause, although trying to outbest each other in the bogbrush tail display.

Let your cat welcome a visitor to your house. One of the ways she can do this is by suddenly jumping onto their shoulder. This will really endear your cat to your visitor, and will make sure future visits are always accompanied by the nervous question, "where's the cat?"

When you're laying on the sofa watching a film, your cat will help you realise how full your bladder is by kneading her paws on you. Then you can spend precious moments with her trying to unhook her claws from your clothes. She'll aid you in your desperate quest to get to the bathroom by letting you do this one claw at a time.


*To be fair, I didn't witness this; the cat concerned was being looked after by friends at the time, who found it amusing. As do I, although when thinking about it, I'm not totally surprised she did it, because to paraphrase AA Milne, she is a cat with very little brain.


Life here would certainly be very different without the cats, but I have to say it would definitely be duller. Quieter, but duller.

Not So Handy Household Hints

(Otherwise Known As Lessons Learnt The Hard Way)

When shaking a bottle of sauce, don't go to the trouble of checking the lid is screwed on properly. This is a quick way to creatively redecorate your kitchen.

Make sure your daughter's favourite woollen jumper gets washed on a normal cycle in the washing machine. Her younger sister will be pleased to have a new item of clothing for her doll.

When it's blowing a hooley outside, make sure to stand upwind when washing out a wheelie bin with a hose, so you get an impromptu shower. The same principle also applies when emptying out the lawnmower grassbox. If you can do both while standing upwind - wheelie bin, followed later by grassbox - you'll give the neighbours a good laugh.

Leave your phone in the kitchen, then wash the floor. Before it's dry and your phone rings, you can rush to answer it. There's much merriment to be had in slipping and falling over.

Your toddler wants to prove she's a budding artist, so leave your handbag open within reach of her. Look with appreciation at the abstract lipstick artwork on the wall.

When emptying your new Dyson for the first time, ensure you pull the trigger to release the contents onto the floor before you get to the bin. You can then spend ages happily re-vacuuming the dust you've already collected once.

Make sure you leave a bottle of cooking oil somewhere your three year old daughter can reach it. Doing this ensures she gets the opportunity to pour it all over the kitchen floor. Even better, let her do it just before the gas man turns up to install your new cooker.

When cleaning the bath, lay the shower head down, rather than putting it back in the holder. Turn the shower on to rinse the bath, but forget to pick the head up and you'll get the chance to wash your hair at the same time.

When making a rare foray into your daughter's bedroom to liberate cups etc, make sure you praise her for the impressive science experiment she's cultivating in a mug under the bed after you've put your hand in it.

When it's blowing a hooley outside, but it's otherwise a great day for getting washing dry, don't bother securely pegging your duvet cover to the washing line. Then you can have fun retrieving it by clambering across a ditch into the field next door. This will also give the neighbours a good laugh.

First thing in the morning, put the plug in the bath, turn on the taps, then go back to bed and fall asleep. It's a good way to ensure the kitchen below gets a thorough cleaning.

In the garden, stand on a wooden table to cut back some trees. Standing on the table will save you the bother of getting the ladder out. Don't worry about checking first to see if any of the table legs are rotten, because there's much laughter to be had when your husband tries to catch you, unfortunately fails, and you land in a heap on the rockery.

Leave the stiff bolt on the bathroom door, so your young daughter can lock herself in there. She can then play with cold water and subsequently be unable to unlock the bolt. To make it more of an experience for both of you, let this happen when you're eight and a half months pregnant, at a time when you're feeling and looking like a beached whale. Then get someone to advise you to try and kick the door in to release your daughter.

If you're feeling adventurous, wear flip-flops while using a kangol hammer drill to dig up a patio. Later, you can listen to your mother having a fit at the other end of the phone when she sees the photos (sorry Mum), while you're quietly picking bits of paving out of your feet.

Again, if you're feeling a little adventurous, when washing up make sure there are plenty of bubbles and put sharp knives into the bowl. Also known as Russian Roulette, kitchen style.

Invite your friends over and hold your own foam party in the wetroom after your daughter uses copious amounts of bubble bath instead of shower gel.

A day or two before school photographs are due to be taken, leave a pair of scissors within reach of your children. You'll cherish the picture of your youngest daughter with a fringe like Herman Munster.

When you have a builder in and you're taking photos of work in progress, make sure the flash is on when using the camera. This way, you can watch him jump when the flash goes off while he's removing electrical wiring. You may also get the chance to learn some new vocabulary.

After putting bread under the grill for toast, walk away and forget it. The smoke alarm will let you when know your house has been fully fragranced with essence of burnt bread.

During the hair colouring process, walk into your bedroom, remove the old, dye covered towel you've got round your shoulders and fling it on your pristine white duvet cover. A bit later, after you pick the towel up, stand back and admire the new pattern on the duvet cover.


The research above is by no means exhaustive, but I feel I have to stop before coming across like a complete and utter idiot. In my defense, this research has taken years to compile, although I will admit that three of the items above have occurred during the last week. Ah well, live and learn, that's my excuse. Or perhaps I'm an idiot.