Day 138: I Am Working!

Heavens to Murgatroyd! I am sitting in my kitchen on the wireless inter-net with the typing cable in the power socket. Radio 4 is burbling. Otherwise there is Silence, other than some rustling, a sigh or two, the scritch-scratch of a pencil, the tippety-tap of my monkey paws on the keyboard and the odd 'ping' of an email.

There are no phones ringing and no stupid questions. The email in my inbox is from people I like, or at least know. I have done a lot of washing and loaded and unloaded the dishwasher twice. I have moved the spices around in the cupboard and made some coffee. There is a packet of biscuits in the cupboard that I have not opened and will not open. I have cooked and eaten my own lunch and later, I shall eat a pear and buy some new knickers on the line. The only problem is that every time I stand up, the stupid fat fuckwit of a cat sits in my chair and has to be picked up (no mean feat, despite Royal Canin lo-cal catfood) and shoved off, mewling pathetically until I pat him on the head (whilst wrinkling my nose in distain).














The table I am sitting at is the table MM and MF had when I was a Very Small Child. I had an au pair who would make apple strudel on it by pulling one bit of pastry out until she had covered it, and then she would fold it over and over until the Strudel was made. I wonder if I can do it too. No. I must work. Yes, work, not Austrian cakes. Don't move. The cat will move in. Don't. Move. Eek!