Sunday Night

I know I’m supposed to write you a blog right now, but I’m way too stressed.

I have yelling at the contestants on MKR to do (I really do despise them all I think- even the nice ones- I know they “really don’t want to go home yet” I know they’ve “worked so hard” and that they “really want to make cooking their life”.  I don’t need them to tell me fifty-seven times per show.)

I have to make dinner for the next two nights.

I have to clean the bathrooms- they really just can’t wait another day.

And I really should drink the last bit of that wine so that it’s not sitting there in the fridge door every time I open it, taunting me and trying to make me drink it during “the week” (Sundays are not in “the week” you know).

Excuse me…

Okay, I’m back- I just had to stop the cat from completely shredding the carpet- she’s locked in our bedroom- and has been for THE LAST TWO WEEKS- ostensibly to keep her quiet, since the eye-scratch-incident.  She’s going quietly mad in there, and so are we.  She climbs the venetions, pisses on any clothes we leave on the floor, and miaaooowwws every morning from 2.30-4am.  Tomorrow I get to take her to the cat ophthalmologist (yes, there is in fact such a thing) for a two hundred dollar consultation in BRISBANE (two hours each way).  I have a new car.  The chances of her not defecating or urinating on the way are as slim as Carrie Bickmore’s arms.  So yeah, bring that joy.

So this is what you get in lieu of a blog.

Now shhh, Elementary is about to start, and I can’t be distracted from my Johnny Lee.  (He may require my help.  And if not I’ll just stare at him, mouth slightly agape.  I’ll try not to drool.)

Wish me luck (with the cat, not the drooling)

What’s your Sunday night routine?  

How much do you love Elementary?

…From The Ashers xx

Epilogue:  As I was typing, the cat was going BATSHIT in the bedroom, trying to get out. The bastard has just pulled up the carpet. We couldn’t get into the bloody room ‘cos she carpet-barricaded us OUT.  Oh, sweet baby cheeses, save me now, and don’t let me wrap that cat in the wrecked carpet and chuck her in the pool.  Or don’t judge me.  Either works.