Tag Archives: The Cat

Busy Doing Nothing

nothing happenedI’ve had a very productive week doing very little except recovering from Campath.

You need to put in a lot of preparation work to do nothing. First up, food. I’ve spent hours on the computer putting together a shopping list for Ocado home delivery to save me the hassle of going to the shops.

With a brain functioning at less than zero, it was a Herculean task. I also Blame The Brain (TM) for the abundance of snacks and chocolate that found their way into my virtual basket and the lack of proper, grown-up things such as leafy green vegetables and washing up liquid.

Next, The Teenager. Unlike me, he’s had a busy week doing an awful lot and needs frequent cash injections and food (see above point). He’s also keeping me ‘entertained’ with a detailed breakdown and analysis of the upcoming football season, so I’ve had to try and concentrate as he throws in random pop quizzes to check I’ve been listening.

Then there’s the cat. She also wants feeding. On Tuesday, her Go-Cat crunchy biscuits didn’t quite fill the gap so she brought in a barely-alive bird and dropped it at my feet. I screamed, she ran away with the poor thing and proceeded to eat it, head first, outside my window, casting me triumphant glances as she munched away.

I am also not studying, not doing any housework, not getting rid of the cobwebs (18 and counting, plus two large, dead spiders spinning around, eww). I am busy lolling on my sofa, reading trashy magazines and watching trashy telly. This keeps me occupied for hours and hours, leaving no time to just do nothing. To break the monotony, I went with the boss to Ikea the other day to look at kitchens. I’ve never been one to turn down free meatballs.

I did nothing much at Ikea either but on my way through the Market Hall, I picked up a lamp I didn’t really need. Ikea does strange things to the mind. It’s virtually impossible to leave without buying anything, even if it’s just a 60p hotdog or a dustpan and brush set.

So that’s been my week. Next week I’m planning to do more of the same. It might look like I’m doing nothing but I’m rushed off my feet…

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I Used to Like My Cat

When he ¬†was younger I teased The Teenager that when we left for work/school, the cat would jump onto the sofa, switch the telly on and watch QVC. He believed me for years, bless him, but recently I’m beginning to think it’s true.

Now I’m working from home, the cat is engaged in a campaign of warfare against me for invading her territory day after day.

Back in the bad old days of MS, when I was having continuous relapses, the cat was an angel. She would curl round me as I lay on the sofa, lie next to me in bed at night and she was just generally sweet and comforting. If she could have made dinner and washed up, I’m sure she would have.

Now though, she torments me. I wouldn’t be surprised if she changes the locks next time I leave the house. I sit at my desk trying to work and she is there, shooting me evil looks. I make a cup of coffee and I find her next to the kettle. I go upstairs to fetch something and she is on my bed, glaring at me. The only time she seems happy is when I put my coat on to go out. She trots around the room, purring. When I get back in, she starts the weirdy-staring thing again.

And she miaows constantly. It used to be cute. The cat rescue place warned us she was ‘a talker’ when we chose her. How lovely! How sweet! Now it drives me to distraction. I snickered when she miaowed so hard she lost her footing and fell off the window sill, but the next day she threw up all over my sofa.

So we are uneasy house-sharers at the moment. We circle each other, neither of us willing to give way. She knocks over ornaments and picture frames. Deliberately? She wants out, then she doesn’t. Then she does. Then she won’t go out the back door, insisting she goes out the front window instead. She drapes herself on the bottom stair. She lays mangled, decapitated birds and mice by the back door and once brought a live mouse inside. We still can’t find it.

I’ve got news for her though. I was going to buy her a Whiskas stocking for Christmas, but she’s just been scored off my Christmas list. So there.


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