August 22nd
The toaster malfunctioned. It took the burning of 3 sets
of toast combined with the activation of the fire alarm
for me to get wise to it and realise it wasn’t working.
“Just like Flossom”, said Zeuss, who was watching
me wrestle the charred remains of my toast from the clutches
of the toaster.
“What do you mean, just like Flossom, Zeuss?”
He gazed up at me with his clear blue innocent eyes, “well,” he
said, “she doesn’t work, she’s impossible
to take food from and she’s prone to blowing up,
I’d take her back and get a better model”.
August
23rd
The heater exploded today. This was good as it meant we
got to go shopping at a store which sells Kitchen Whizzes.
Electrical stores are a paradise to Brent; he gazed adoringly
at the 150 inch plasma TV’s and checked out sound
system specifications.
I tried to sneak past him with a gorgeous bright red food
processor.
“We don’t need that”, he yelled, “We’ve
already got one”. His ‘spending allergy’ looked
to be making a come-back so I sadly put it back. The one
we have is a pathetic looking individual who should have
retired about 5 years ago, however I’m sensing it
won’t be long before it suffers a misfortunate turn
of events as it accidentally plummets to the hard kitchen
floor, from where it proceeds to get stomped to death by
a horse.
*I may have to work on the bit about what exactly
the horse was doing in the kitchen….making carrot
cake?
August 24th
More sodding rain, which meant I should have been doing
my GST returns but quite frankly I just couldn’t
be arsed. It involves sitting down writing a load of numbers
and doing some calculations. I’d much rather send
a jolly nice card with a wee note in it. I’m pretty
sure the tax department would rather receive that too.
Dear Taxologists, I’d write,
As usual, I’ve earned sod all over the last
three months so a holiday is out of the question and
I’m unable to buy that nice bright red food processor
I‘ve always wanted. The weather has been crappy
here lately, I hope you’re all having a swimmingly
good time, no need to reply unless you’d like to
send me a whoppingly large cheque
Sincerely
Cathy Dee
August
25th
The rain is continuing to pelt down.
The Phantom hates the rain, he’d rather walk backwards
than face into it – a fact he demonstrated as he
marched stolidly backwards about 200 yards, bumping into
first Persil and then the tack shed, all to get to his
food bowl.
I’m going to have to get him a reversing light.
August 26th
The rain is driving us all nuts.
The House God is convinced he is a Falklands Island
Paratrooper, insisting staging freefall dives from the
top of the fridge onto the other cats as they unwittingly
pass by, scaring the b’jesus out of them.
“They need to be prepared at all times,” he
bawled at me when I told him off, “Anything could
happen; take dinner for example”.
“Take dinner? What do you mean, take dinner?”
“Take dinner out of the fridge”, he said
rolling his eyes, “And put it on my plate”.
August 27th
If this weather continues,
I’m going to have to
look at ordering special commando diving outfits for
the pooches.
August 28th
I went to a doctor, who is also a Naturopath, today.
She specialises in Fibromyalgia, among other things.
I made the mistake of mentioning that her website could
do with an update and revamping.
It turned out she’d only just had it done.
It’s hard to know what to say when your foot is
wedged that far into your mouth.
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