Okay, so, I woke up this morning all warm and cozy inside my blankets. My cat yowling in my face for food and putting her furry paws on my eyes. Ever seen Simon’s Cat? That’s my cat. Only not as nimble. Cuz she’s old. She’s 17 years old and probably senile. She sounds like an old lady that’s been smoking for fifty years. And she’s yowling in my face as hard as she can, cuz she knows I can’t hear her, and puts her furry paws on my eyes.
“YOWL!” Prod. “YOWL!” Prod.
So, I wake up, abandon my warm toasty cocoon for the chill autumn air and stumble to the kitchen to feed the raspy, arthritic, senile old beast her can of turkey sludge.
That’s how every morning begins. Cold air, yowling cat, turkey sludge.
My day usually progresses without incident after the cat gets fed. I get ready for work. I go to work. I work. I finish work. I nap at work. I go home. I cook food. I eat. I goof off on the internet or read a book in the bathtub. I comb the cat. I go to bed.
This is why I never blog about my days, because my days are routinized and dull.
But sometimes something different comes up. I hate suprises. They’re usually bad news. Like the suprise I got this morning, with my damn car.
When I got out to my car, it was frosted over with ice and the chill was deep. I turn the ignition…and nothing. The air comes on, the wipers, the clock, the bells, and the lights, but my car won’t start. Not even a rumble or a chugging. Just silence. I’ve got PMS and I no longer eat chocolate all day, and I am on a tight budget. This is seriously stressing me out. I don’t exactly have the money for this.
I just ate a Milky Way. It was so good, but I’ll probably sleep like crap now, and probably would have regardless, because of the money. My cat will be more yowly and proddy than usual in the morning.
Oh, you can say my PMS is over, as I’ve just started my period. I don’t even have protection on me today. Crap. So, now I need money, a hot bath, a bag of ultra-thin maxi pads, and another candy bar.
My cat is lucky. She doesn’t have bills, a broken car, a job, or periods. All she has to do is yowl and prod and whatever her little old beastly heart desires, she gets. I should rename her Lola.