I had a big surprise this morning, as I stumbled in, bleary of eyed and with horrendous bedhead. BF had his Sunday shift, which starts at 6, and I decided to do the Drive of Shame home that early, in the hope that my sleepy self could get back into a bed and sleep away my day off.
The cat (Milo, AKA head cheerleader from hell) had been alone since I left for work in the morning. I’d let her out after breakfast and she came back just before I left. So bang on the dot that I paused in locking the front door and let it swing open in front of her. Whereupon she realised that she was being abandoned and obviously tried to take revenge.
(On a seemingly unrelated tangent)
I have a set of white and gold china table settings and I use them on formal occasions. They are the basic building blocks from which I decorate the table appropriate to seasonal holidays. One day, well, ten years ago if you want to be totally accurate, I decided to make my Christmas theme lunch pink and gold and white. To this end I tied hot pink curling ribbon to the handles of the teacups, which I then floated frangipanis in, and used them as table decorations.
(This was also the occasion that my sisterlaw put her devil child to bed in my room and he got bored and decided to smear the contents of his nappy all over the room. His mother and grandmother told me not to come in and they cleaned it up but I guessed they missed the huge turd under my pillow, which I discovered the next night)
Anyway, the hot pink curling ribbon looked great on the cups and I was too lazy to pack them away so it stayed there. I don’t use that crockery much. Certainly, my life hasn’t been full of joyous family celebrations over the last few years and there has been no need to pull them out of hibernation.
Except this year I felt that I should use beloved items because life is too short. Accordingly, I’ve been using my fancy dinner setting for everyday consumption and I’ve lately been using the cups as mini bain maries. In the oven they go.
They still have their hot pink ribbon on them and, given that even letting toast get slightly golden is too much for my hysterical fire alarm, I took steps to alleviate the potential oven/burny ribbon conflict. I discard all of the curly ribbon and placed it in the bin. (Dinner worked out fine by the way; no angry elderly ladies came to tell me how much they regretted me moving into their complex).
Remember, I was out all day yesterday?
The cat obviously got bored and turned to comfort eating. When it had consumed twice its own weight in catfood (judging by the empty bowl) it obviously decided that it needed to floss its teeth and what better mechanism than the curly hot pink ribbon lengths in the bin?
Which explains why I came in just before sunup this morning and my first thought was:
“Awww, the girls have been making decorations for the party!”
“Chocolate and pink don’t really work together”.
Then, (getting closer):
“what smells bad?!”
Yep. You guessed it. My cat had eaten the ribbon and left me a twined together surprise.
I am both still dry heaving and laughing.