[m i a o w] the cat

I don’t like Mondays. Ugh - woke up today trashed out and ick courtesy of weekends excesses. I didn’t eat badly, I just ate *way* too much! Not to mention yesterdays combination of beer, lemon cordial, white wine and red wine. Goddamnit - you would assume that our bodies are more important than anything. If you had a Porsche (or something more cool but similarly expensive) would you ravage it with crud? No. You’d put in bloody premium quality petrol and treat it beautifully so it purred like a kitten. Ugh. I am so feeling like a clapped out 1977 Datsun180B.

The excess of food has also squashed my inspiration and so instead of writing more, I have been forced to do my 500 word responses - so far I have done two and thus have only one to go for this semester, which must be kind of good?

Felt so vile today (and I know I felt vile because, as always, when vile-feeling, I awoke at about a quarter past six) didn’t go to work. Called in and said I was going to take a couple of Panadol and go back to bed, which I would have done if I’d been able to find any. This is the first day I’ve ever taken off - I feel bad, both for my very distressed bank account and my boss, who probably thinks I’m a freak.

Two more bad house-sitting tales. I think I mentioned that a pigeon died of peach over-eating in the backyard, that’s one. The other is that I used a plate that had a bit glued back together which I immediately broke in exactly the same place. D’oh. Then I tried to make scrambled eggs and thought I’d be gourmet and add some cream. It was off. Goodbye eggs. And did I mention someone stole the bottle bin? As in the big plastic crate you put out your plastic/glass stuff in for recycling. They are SOOO never going to let me housesit ever again.

I did pledge, in this mornings nauseous haze, that I would never eat carbhydrates after 2pm again (I read a diet article). But what the hell do you eat then? The article suggested fish and vegetables - nice in theory, but where do I get decent fish in Collingwood? Dig up the one I buried in the garden? Oops.