If we can’t grumble on our blogs, where can we grumble, eh? So, let’s all grumble together. I’ll bitch here and you bitch in the comments section. That way I won’t feel so utterly ridiculous.
So here’s the low down:
I got some mince from my folks’ last night and got me some basil, tomatoes and onion and settled down to (now hold onto your seats), make some Spag Bol. The kitchen survived, but half way through, someone decided to tick me off exponentially. So much so that I was shaking. In an effort to remember the ‘F*ck ’em!’ post, I tried to calm myself down. Naturally, that did nothing. So out comes the vodka. After two (or was it three?) I started to feel a little more calm, the Spag Bol came out brilliantly – even my Italian’s from London would’ve been impressed – and I watched a few episodes of Lie to Me, whilst chatting away on FB. The anger still remained though, chewing up enough of my insides to make me rather sore this morning, but I was no longer shaking, so I couldn’t complain.
I found that the combination of the adrenalin that comes with anger, vodka and Spag Bol actually isn’t good for sleeping. So I lay awake until God knows what time, thinking inane thoughts and having silent arguments in my head – cue further anger and shaking.
When I finally got to sleep, I couldn’t have managed more than two hours before the cuddle-calls started. Don’t get me wrong, I love the Guns. I don’t know how I survived without them previously, but cuddle-calls starting at 3am and ending at 7, when I gave up, aren’t ideal. The problem is, it’s Slash, not Axl. Slash is not affectionate during the day. He won’t come and sit on your lap and purr, like Axl will, or climb your jeans to sit with you (now screaming in agony), as Axl’s just done, whilst I’m writing this; so the few times Slash is affectionate, I need to take advantage of.
The cuddle-calls started around three weeks ago, they always start at 4.30am. First it’s a head-nudge, then it’s a nose-pat, then it’s dozens of wet noses pressed against your cheek, until you wake up – all this whilst purring (it’s all very cute…but not at 4.30am). You then given him a scratch and a cuddle – he does his flop-over-purring type crazy moves and then wanders off as if nothing happened (the scratch must last about 15-20 minutes at least, otherwise more wet noses). This is to be repeated each hour. It’s not all so good for an insomniac.
Axl joined in last night, which is why I think they started so early, so I had wet-noses from BOTH sides and Axl’s favourite is to stick a claw up your nostril if you don’t respond to wet noses and nose-pats, which is not a pleasant way to wake up.
So this goes on, on at least an hourly basis, until they grow tired of cuddles and start running from one end of the room to the other (note: the house is open to them…do they use it…no, of course not!), taking a route via my HEAD. So, I now have two three month old kittens jumping on my head at God knows what time of the morning.
However, as an insomniac, my body holds onto whatever sleep it manages to get, so my sleep is fitful and full of swinging fists, but there is some sleep. Until…
I get woken up with someone climbing a ladder, which is resting up against my bedroom WALL! There is supposed to be no one on the property bar me and my neighbour, who has apparently asked the gardener to come in, after expressly telling me she’d let me know if she did that, as so I wouldn’t have a shock. She did a super job on that one. Grumble.
The gardener had a ladder up next to my bedroom wall so that he could unplug my air-conditioner!! In 94% humidity, at 7am, my air-conditioner was unplugged. Give me a freaking break. So he could plug the lawn-mower in. So, now I’m boiling, the grating, wheezing sound of the lawn-mower is invading my room and my cats are now bonafide caracals, thanks to the noise.
So, up I get. To find out I’ve pulled my back. Then realise all my curtains are open, so I have to sneak around the house to find decent clothes, so the gardener doesn’t see my bare ass. Then I sit down to my pc to find that what I was downloading (obviously, totally legal), hadn’t succeeded as my cats had unplugged my pc during the night. I decide to make coffee, find the dregs have melted thanks to the heat, but luckily find some more and make myself a cup of coffee, only to find I’ve almost no sugar left. Luckily, I have castor sugar and I’m not afraid to use it.
Then I put too much milk in. Then I sat down to my pc again and wrote a lovely long post about SEO and the crazy search engine terms I’ve had this week, which included “F*ck my couch*.” The post was good (I mean, with a search term like that, it’d have to be) and I did a lovely little picture, too. It was a long post. I hit publish, it took me to the page, which I didn’t look at and just carried on chatting on Facebook. Only to go back and find it not only hadn’t published it. It had published a blank post, with nothing on and had since deleted everything I had written.
This is why I’m writing this post. My grumble is over. I hope. My milky coffee is almost finished and I’m now going to make a castor sugar, non-milky coffee, whilst I wait for you all to grumble with me.
So it’s your turn – use the comment and GRUMBLE with me 🙂
If you don’t. I will find you.
*Benoni Goose – Someone is still searching for ‘once you go black you become a single mom.’ They came to my site now, oops! Sorry about that, but I’m sure you’ll forgive me for taking that obviously well-balanced person from your site. I’ve since upgraded my alarm-system.