The 31st of March.
I was woken by a text from Shaki, asking if I needed anything from Lee’s before she came to trim Monica’s claws. I replied to say that some dried food would be good, then put my glasses on and went downstairs to open the curtains in Monica’s room before Shaki arrived. Mommy let her in, and Monica was immediately apprehensive so we had to manhandle (cathandle?) her a bit but then it didn’t take long to get them all clipped so hopefully I will have less tiny punctures in my leggings.
Once she’d left, I returned upstairs to clean my face and teeth and get dressed, all a bit later than I’d planned, so I had a rather grumbly stomach by the time I had breakfast. I got a blog post done, then I went to sit with Monica so as to acquire her forgiveness.
This afternoon has been gym. The only regular I saw today was Sweaty Boy, who I haven’t seen for ages. You can tell it’s the school holidays by the amount of youths there are, and I am not a fan, although their totally obvious lack of experience is amusing. I also saw a girl with a frankly banging body and had to try not to stare. I concentrated very hard on my own form to appear less weird.
The 1st of April.
No surprise texts this morning, just my alarm saying it really was time to get up now. After the deaths of Ronnie Corbett and Zaha Hadid yesterday, today’s This Morning was all about their agony aunt, Denise Robertson, who’s died too. This was slightly less shocking as she did have pancreatic cancer and that is never a good one. They even brought in Eamonn from sick leave to provide moral support.
I’ve had a rather sedentary day, taking care of my muscles that are sore from yesterday. Monica has had a lot of hugs. She’s so lazy, she’ll play for a little bit, maybe look out of the window, but her favourite activity is sleeping on someone’s lap. She surprised us today by jumping onto the windowsill that she’s never sat on. I know guys, this is big news, calm down.
This afternoon, the kitty and I watched Pitch Perfect. When it finished, we were sitting in silence, and I was just thinking how lovely it was when she did such a horrific fart, I felt it and had a genuine concern that she had done a shit on my leg. Thankfully not, but I did then feel I had to leave her for a bit. Farts of that nature are not acceptable and it’s my job to teach her that.
Zines from comedy pals are the best.