Including me.
Yesterday was the first day, for months, that the sun was out in full force. And within minutes
As I started spring cleaning, yep I'm morphing into my mum, I turned up the tunes (Finley Quaye, obviously), hung out the washing and watched my cat chase flies in the garden.
Normal free-spirited life has resumed.
Hopefully my low levels of enthusiasm, which appear during dank, winter months, will depart my life.
While eating poached eggs on toast in the garden (it probably wasn't that warm, but I'm a Brit) I decided to re-do the bathroom.
I've never installed a new sink, or in fact ripped out an old one, but it can't be that hard? Surely?
I’ve inherited my Dad's stubbornness so there's no way I'm paying someone else to do it.
I managed to plumb in a washing machine, on my Jack Jones, earlier this year.
DIY is a new challenge, my new poison.
While Finley was booming out my Ipod and my boyfriend was mowing the lawn all was well, until we came across a dead rabbit under the BBQ.
The poor thing was half eaten and seriously mangled.
I looked at my cat... who was happily chewing a blade of grass. She couldn't murder a rabbit, could she?
We hoped it was a wild rabbit killed by a fox.
But the reality was it was black and white (wild rabbits are usually brown) and we've never seen a fox in the garden or the street.
Oh God, my cat is a part of the cat mafia and stole a pet rabbit as a symbolic warning threat.
She's part of a criminal feline underworld. And as a London city cat, she would have a top ranking.
A Don.
My cat Cariad is pretty badass she once caught a crow bigger than herself, and she's been known to catch a shifty few squirrels.
My boyfriend suggested we cut off the rabbit's foot or good luck. I think, hope, he was joking.
Anyway, how did I digress from spirit-soaring sunshine to murderous Mafia killings?
Sorry.
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