Posts tagged ‘cat’

March 1, 2012

Had enough, I’m going!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It was my birthday today and I do not want congratulations, good wishes or any of that rubbish. The truth is, that I am a year older, broke, no better looking and still sexless. 

The day started and will end like any other. I got up, had a good scratch, wandered down stairs to get a cup of coffee, toyed with the idea of not bothering to shower, then had a good sniff and decided that I had better. 

I ambled into the garden to see what sort of birds the spring had brought to the table, aimed a kick at a passing cat and missed.

I then spilled hot coffee down my front and damn near sterilized my important bits when next doors dog barked at me, tripped over the clothes prop and nearly strangled myself on a slack clothes line, then slipped off the line and got mud all over my dressing gown. 

My son had put a load in the washing machine before he went to work and halfway through my shower the damn washing machine went into a rinse cycle. This caused a drop in pressure in the rising main and a corresponding drop in the shower. In a safety move designed to prevent anyone in the shower from getting scalded when the flow is lessened or interrupted the shower heater turned itself off. 

Suddenly I was doused in freezing-cold water which caused me to utter a sort of strangled scream, the like of which I don’t think I have ever uttered before. 

I decided to have cereal for breakfast then realized that I had no milk left.

I then decided to have bacon and eggs – but I had no eggs and the bacon was a funny green colour. 

I phoned the blonde-with-the-legs to see if she fancied treating me to breakfast. She totally got hold of the wrong end of the stick and told me that the breakfast wasn’t a problem, it was what was expected during the night preceding it that she was having no truck with then put down the phone before I had chance to explain. 

Having breakfasted on toast and black coffee, I threw the dishes in the sink, turned the tap on to fill the sink, added washing-up liquid then muttered ‘to hell with that’ put my coat on and collected the car keys from the hook by the kitchen door. 

I was about to go out of the front door when I realised that I had left the tap running. Keys in hand, I went to turn the tap off and dropped the keys in the sink full of soapy water. I fished around in the water for a few minutes, whilst muttering phrases such as ‘oh gosh’ and ‘drat it’. 

The electronic part of the keys, which operate the central locking system, refused to work so I went back into the house to get the spare set. I emptied a dozen drawers, three cupboards and several boxes in different parts of the house before I found the blasted keys on the same hook where the others are kept. 

I am depressed, bored, fed up and sick to the back teeth, I would end it all but I can’t be bothered.

If the blonde-with-the-legs won’t do it at night, I wonder if she’ll do it during the day…

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February 24, 2012

A Brief Encounter, under the bed!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Those of you who are familiar with my posts will know of my devotion to duty in my continuous assaults on the virtue of ‘The Blonde With The Legs’, but more of that later!

I have many things to tell you, there is for example a family trip to the theatre which was, as you may well have expected, a total shambles – but that story is for another day. I must first tell you about today…  No, on second thoughts I will start with last night.

11pm and I am about to get ready for bed – and my well-earned rest. My ankle (operated leg) had been playing up all day and was rather sore, in fact it was quite painful. Now, I put this down to my using it a lot more than it has been used for some time and the joints being a little stiff.

My first indication that all was not well was when I had difficulty getting my shoe off, then I struggled to get the sock off. When I did, I noticed instantly (I’m very quick) that my ankle and lower leg were swollen to the size of a Goodyear Blimp.

A little concerned at the sight of my swollen limb, I looked around for reassurance and heard the television in my son’s room. Knowing, therefore, that he must still be awake, and finding myself in a bit of a panic, I staggered into his room, waving my leg furiously in front of me.

‘Look at the size of that’, I said, making my way to his bedside. It’s okay, dad, I can see it from here, that’s a fair old size!’

‘It’s bloody sore too’, I said, what do you think caused that?’

Bye the way, I was now limping badly on a leg that had, up until I had seen the size of it, been working perfectly!”

‘Don’t worry too much about it, dad, it’s probably just a clot or something,’ he said very thoughtfully – and seriously.

‘Oh, goody, I thought, It’s only thrombosis, what the hell am I worrying about.’

I immediately went back to my room, lay on my bed and waited for death. At 7am I woke myself up with my snoring and realized that, not only was I still alive but the swelling had gone down.

Which brings me back to my original and favourite theme, The Blonde With The Legs.

Sometime after lunch, in bright, warm sunshine, I meandered out into the front garden to lean on the gate, gaze at the Rowan tree and make a daily wish.

Two seconds later my wish was answered at what can only be described as high speed because the ‘The Blonde With The Legs’ came flying at me, pushed me out of the way, ran into the house and shot up the stairs.

Bye God, I thought, the old girl’s keen, that’s what I call wish fulfilment and I took off after her!

I tell you, folks, I was like a sixteen year old who thought the chance to lose his virginity had finally arrived – I went up those damn stairs two at a time WHILST TRYING TO GET ME SWEATER  OFF!

I saw her disappear into the spare bedroom and in my haste to follow, tripped over the final stair, staggered two steps across the carpet and went head-first into the linen cupboard door. Aware that a chance like this, provided by the gods, may never come again, I quickly recovered and dived into the spare room in time to see a pair of nylon-clad and very shapely legs sticking out from under the bed.

A tad kinky, I though, but ‘what the hell’ whatever floats her boat is okay by me! I was about to dive into action when the siren voice of my beloved arose from the dust-laden, stygian blackness under the bed.

‘KEEP YOUR DISTANCE! Put your grubby paws anywhere near me and I will wring your neck.’ The lady has a way with words – pure poetry…

A few seconds later, a tousled, blonde head appeared from beneath the bed along with two arms that held, lovingly, her flamin’ cat!

‘There, mummy, saved you from the nasty man,’ she said, tickling the thing under the chin.

Turns out, that she had seen her cat take a fledgling blackbird chick from the garden and suspecting that, if I saw it first, I would be less than kind, she rushed to get to it before I did. The cat had bolted into our house and she had followed in hot pursuit.

So, there was a moment in that bedroom when me and that moggy stared at each other and I could see that the cat understood that its one-eyed rear end is well overdue an appointment with a large boot!

But, ‘The Blonde With The Legs… She has the poise, the speed and the grace of a dancer, and a heart of pure granite – what a woman!