You know that limbo land you inhabit when most of your shit is still in boxes? I’m in that land.
My mother’s house is littered in my boxes and clothes and general shit. From cat carriers to take sick kitty to the vet to washed clothes to folded dry clothes but no draws to put them in.
My life feels like I may have moved locations, but I’m yet to move in so to speak… Cern has been lovely and helpful and keeping my sick cat company. But we’ve now gotten him a job (YAY YOU SEXY PANTS!) and from today my kitty will be all alone in the house. I envision coming home to all the photo’s mum has littered around the house face down on the floor because when I’m home he knows he isn’t allowed up on the benches. But it’s fair game when I leave him alone. I swear he would be knocking them down one at a time in the hopes that I’ll come barrelling from one end of the house squealing at him to stop being such a cuntycat.
The vet said this week will be the week that we need to keep a close eye on him because if he’s going to regress, it will be this week as his antibiotics wear off. He tried to kill me this morning as I tried to navigate to the bathroom through the box maze to pee before I peed myself because I was busting so hard so obviously he’s feeling fine today. I didn’t even stumble my steps as he latched himself around my naked thigh and howled at me to feed him.
So if it’s not my cat chasing me around the house it’s Cern. I’ve been sick, he was adamant that I needed to let him spray some gunk into the back of my throat. Now to be clear, the gunk he wanted to spray was medication. But I’ve had that medication before and it might send my throat numb and help with the pain, but it was like spraying the back of your throat with what I can only imagine a week old cum smells and tastes like. Which is fine for most people, but I’m a special case. It makes me throw up. So here I was getting naked to have a shower when he picks up said week-old-cum-in-a-spray-bottle and proceeds to chase me around the house with it while I squeal begging to not. He finally cornered me in the shower, I thought I would be safe in there. Obviously I was wrong.
We finally came to a compromise. He made me gargle (hahaha gargle, I drown when I gargle! He rolled his eyes at me when he realised that I was drowning trying to gargle the green liquid – I’m sure I would have been fine if it had been tequila instead…) this other green stuff that made my tongue and mouth go numb instead and I was pretty sure as I was trying to yell at him in the shower I was drooling and my tongue was flapping around without any control.
Suffice to say that I’m suckful when I’m sick. I get sooky and mopey and just a downright little shit to be around. Cern can attest to this.
Good news is that I finally found a bed that I want and it’s being built as we speak from real Australian woods and delivered to me in the next few weeks. At which point I can start moving into the bedroom! Hurrah! Did I mention that the Australian made and run company that sells Australian wooden furniture was cheaper than Ikea? Damn straight. So being that I am me, I wrote on the Ikea Australia facebook page about how disappoint I was with their offerings. They’ve been ignoring me. Figures.
So if you’re in the area and looking for awesome Australian furniture, then go to King Style on King Street in Newtown. It’s near the St Peters end of King St and I promise you won’t be disappoint. Like I was. In Ikea.