Monday Morning

Monday mornings. Never really great things and mine started in a bizarre way. I was getting dressed when I heard a noise at my bedroom window. Thinking it was yet another mental pigeon that had flown into it having been confused by the glass, I flung open the curtains to see if said pigeon had flown off with a headache or if it was in a crumpled, more-than-likely-dead heap on the garage roof. But no. Instead it was the window cleaner who gave me a big grin. I gave a short, sharp smile back and quickly shut the curtains because I was stood there in just my jeans and bra! Not good. I then wandered across the landing to the bathroom (still in just jeans and bra) to discover the window cleaner's brother cleaning the bathroom window! He shouted "Mornin'!" and waved at me through the (thankfully) frosted glass window. I shouted back "Alright?!" and scuttled back into my bedroom. Bad.

When the coast was clear and totally devoid of window cleaners I came downstairs to discover that Buster had left a pool of cat spit and grass next to my shoes. What is it with cats and eating grass? They eat it and then throw it up somewhere! But I tell you, I'm fed up of him doing things like that next to my belongings. I won't even tell you what he did to my beautiful, lovely, pink Sony Vaio laptop the other week but let's just say that it had to be cleaned to within an inch of its life and I didn't speak to Buster for two whole days afterwards.

I'm off to make beads now. Fingers crossed for a good day and I hope I don't have to kick seven shades of . . . oxygen out of my oxy-con like I did yesterday. It's so unreliable. Thank goodness that it's no longer used for medical purposes!