On Being Burgled

You may recall of late - those of you on Facebook - that I have alluded to one of my sleeping problems these past few weeks, being thanks to Kellie being under the impression we're being burgled while she sleeps.

So every noise, every sound, every suspected trespasser, every imagined suggestion of a break-in, she bolts awake, wakes me up, and makes me check for burglars.

Every time - quite obviously - I've returned to bed, unable to find the intruder, and she's sat up like a nervous wreck because she's expecting someone with a bag marked "SWAG!" to enter our home at any moment.

Now we skip to tonight - a quarter of an hour ago in fact.

It's not quite 1am. As per usual, I am exhausted, miserable, in a lot of pain, poking around on Facebook and reading and what-have-you.

Shockingly, Kellie is sprawled across 97% of the bed snoring and drooling, while I am squished against the wall. Not snoring, not drooling, and not sleeping.

Being that it is a Sunday, the outside is veeeery quiet. And, being that I am me, my BATLIKE hearing is listening to the sounds of the house wind down.

Then I hear a thump, just outside the kitchen window. I freeze my questioning of whether or not moths have a tummy, and listen harder. I hear another noise that, while I can't place it, it's not a "Normal House Noise" A moment later, I hear a sound from the kitchen itself, the sound of cutlery being disturbed on the draining board.

I start to - very quietly - untangle myself from Kellie, whom is doing her best impression of the Indian Goddess of Kali, she of the many many arms. At the same time, I am also trying to get the wire out my phone.

I hear a couple of glasses in the kitchen very faintly clink together. Not loud, but definitely a sound that should not be happening in our kitchen at 1am.

I think back. The door was definitely shut. I've not heard any of the kids creep down in order to get a drink - they sneak like elephants in wellie boots. Kellie was definitely knotted against me. I was in bed.

I hear another thump in the kitchen.

So now I can picture it in my head - someone has slid the window open, and climbed INTO our kitchen, disturbing the odd item as they slip into the house...

To my utmost shock and surprise, a moment later, I hear a noise in the very room in which I am sitting bolt-upright, listening, one of the wardrobe doors is nudged, and then one of the handles on the dressing table rattles...

A few moments later, I am untangled from Kellie, my phone is phone unplugged, and I'm now mentally scanning our room for something weapon-like that isn't going to actually KILL someone. While the law has been changed, I don't fancy the hassle of getting arrested for killing an intruder. I decide that I'm going to leap out of bed - stark-balls-nekkid - grab the hair dryer from the floor, and use the plug on the end as a weapon.

Let's be honest, it hurts like a motherf$cker just stepping on a plug - imagine getting smacked by one by an enraged nekkid bloke.

I can feel the adrenaline running around my body. I'm enraged that someone is trying to get into MY house. I turn on the torch on my phone and start to launch myself out the bed and directly towards the intruders...

At this exact moment, a white cat - a white cat that is neither Gimli (who is black) nor Galadriel (who is tabby) jumps up onto my bed about eighteen inches from my face.

It freezes. I freeze. A nano-second passes, and both of us crap our proverbial underwear. It flies off out back through the kitchen, and out the window, and I am left sat on the end of the bed, naked, shaking like a leaf, my heart making enough noise in my ears to wake the neighbours, clutching my phone/torch in a death-grip, wondering what the holy FUCK just happened.

A few moments later, I hear The White Cat barrel over the fence in the back garden, probably spooked as much as me, vanishing into the night...

And so now, at 0115, I've had to come and sit upstairs for a bit to chill out, let the adrenaline dissipate, and try and get my brain back into some form of order that is not "Must. Kill. Bad. Guy!"

And, oddly, James and I were talking about mad adrenaline rushes earlier today. Go figure.

So NOW, I am sat here wondering if Kellie has, in fact, been hearing The White Cat break into our home, and disturb her just enough to realise there's something out of place, but by the time I've gotten up, it's done a runner and over the fence. Has Kellie been detecting the cat burglar in her sleep?

Kellie, the girl that doesn't hear the child sat beside her ask a question. She that cannot hear when I shout up the stairs "whaddayawantferyerdinner?!"

Is she, in fact, a budding Crazy Cat Lady, with an innate skill of Detect Cat That Is Not Mine?

I shall question her in the morning, regardless of your favourite blogger being able to get back into some form of restive state... We shall see...

Creatures From Hell

If there is one thing that you should know about me - and don't already - it's that I don't do snakes. Not "Oh they're a bit gross" but flat out "I hate them and wouldn't be upset should they all suddenly up and die from this genetic disease I've created to get them all" hate them.

Case in point - to find the picture for this post took about four seconds. In that four seconds, my palms started to sweat, and I've had to put my feet up on the sofa in case one appears in the lounge. You know, like saying "Voldemort" draws attention to you...

Hmm, Voldemort, Slitherin, Snakes... Pattern?

But I digress.

If there are two things that snakes should never ever EVER have, it's tentacles and psychic powers. However, considering we don't live in the Marvel or DC universe, we are safe in the knowledge that oh-my-crapping-god-what-is-THAT!

OK, so as it happens, The Tentacled Snake (Erpeton tentaculatum, apparently) does in fact exist, and is an aquatic snake. So, no more swimming for me then. But thankfully, just because there are snakes with fricking tentacles doesn't mean there are psychic snakes.

Right?

*BZZZZ* Wrong. See, Mr I've-Got-Things-Sticking-Out-My-Face-Up-There is a rather nifty little hunter. He has evolved to understand how fish (FISH!) react to danger. When fish sense movement that their ickle fish brains tell them is "Something's Gonna Eat Ya!" the brain takes over and makes the fish dart away, all involuntary-like. This bastard of a snake has learned that by wiggling the middle of it's body, it knows the fish will autopilot out of dodge at the speed of fish-light.

And the psychic part? The snake KNOWS where the fish is going to go. The fish itself moves too fast for the snake to catch it, but the snake uses its apparent psychic abilities to put it's evil fanged maw where the fish will BE.

As far as the naked eye goes, it's a snakey eating a fishy, but once slowed right down, you can see the snake wiggle it's bits and Roberts Your Mothers Brother, the fish is lunch. And if you don't believe me...




OK, possibly it's not truly psychic but has evolved to know which direction the fish is going to high-tail it to, but it might as well be, to know where to put its head in order to have lunch. No following it's prey, no tracking it slowly slowly...

So, I can now add The Seas to the list of places not to go to avoid encountering snakes. Antarctica is looking better and better!

A Dose of Awwww

It's not often I post fuzzy things (Kellie-related notwithstanding) but I saw this and thought it was waaay too nice to not post.

Not one of ours I'll grant you but it IS sickly sweet.

Sleepy-Byes

See how comfortable Gimli (the black one) is?  See how UNcomfortable Galadriel (the tabby one) is?
Now, replace "Gimli" with "Kellie" and "Galadriel" with "Dan" and that's pretty much our bed!

Minus the very fetching socks, of course.

Uber-Professional Blogger

Because THIS is how I am blogging:

Easy? Not really!

I Kan Fix It, or "Voices In My Head"

Actually Our Cat

Those of you on my Twitter stream will have notice today that I have been a little... Put Out... With a laptop repair.  To say that it's been a complete and utter bastard would be putting it mildly.

It all started out with a "bit of an infection" which is the polite way of saying "42,000 items of Malware, 120 viruses"  After Avast, MalwareBytes and Ccleaner looked at me and shook their heads, the only other solution was a reinstall.

So, at 1in went the disc, and away it went.

Vista, I should add.

And NOT my machine I should doubly add.

Within half an hour (I kid ye not) the install process had Blue Screened of Deathed on me.  Which is never a good sign.  It generally means that all is not well in the Land of Computer Gubbins.  So, I started again, and aside from the sloooowness of it, it slowly did it's thing.

LONG story short, it took two hours to install.  Bare in mind I had lots of other things I wanted to do today, but slowly but surely, I could see them slipping beyond my grasp.

Once it installed, it refused, point-blank, to connect to the internet wirelessly.  Full on childish sulk.  It could see the network, but didn't know what the network was, nor did it believe me when I tried to usher it through the door to the internet itself.  I ushered, nudged, suggested, pushed, body-checked, threw and threatened it with a pointy stick.

But to Internet-Land, it did not want to go.

So, running wires and crap around, I connect it to the network via a cable.  "Ooooh" it said as it found the internet - and then proceeded to sulk that it needed Windows Update to be run.  It took another 90 minutes to decide that, yes, it would very much like 109 updates.

I allowed it, and let it start downloading them and installing them.  Thinking it's connected to a fast network, it shouldn't take too long.  And Microsoft, who are so well known for their accurate guesstimations of passing time, happily told me "Time to complete, 54 minutes"

Not too shabby.  So I started pottering around on the computer, sorting graphics settings and everything else, then pottered around on my phone, shouted a bit on Twitter, looked at the screen... Two hours twenty minutes remaining.

OK, Microsoft still have no clue regarding the passage of time.

32 minutes
3 days
82 minutes
1 day, 12 hours

And so on and so forth.

So I pissed off and did dinner.  I remember when I used to enjoy reinstalling or rebuilding systems, but now it's just gotten to the stage where everything I seem to touch implodes on me.

Dinner cooked, still not done.  Dinner eaten, still not done.  So I went out and did the paper round.  Got in - only JUST done, and half eight at night.  It restarted, and then decided it wanted to do a Windows Update.

And still refused to touch the internet through the wireless network.  The other Vista machine in the house is quite happy using it's wireless, completely believes me when I tell it there is internet, so I know it's not a Vista-vs-The-Router issue.

And then, the kittens woke up.  Or, more specifically, Galadriel woke up.

Cat names are a whole new blog post, so just go with it for now.

I'm sat on the floor, fiddling with my phone, screaming on Twitter, drinking a Pepsi, when she wanders across me to the knackered machine, and my brain decides to tell me she's talking to me.

Yes folks, I've cracked, the computer pushed me over the edge.

G: Stop playing on your phone, the computer is still broken.
Me: Yes, I know it's broken, it's updating.
G: How about I stand on the keyboard - oh, it made a funny noise.
Me: That's because you just cancelled the Update it was doing, move.
G: Alright Alright - heeeey put me down - why don't you call a professional?
Me: I AM a professional.
G: You're talking to a cat.
Me: I'm obviously very tired, now please, go play with Kellie.
G: She doesn't need my help on her game. Oh, what's it doing now?
Me: It's rebooting and searching for more updates.
G: I'll sit back on the keys, that was nice and warm.
Me: No, you can go sit over there
G: Heeeey put me down!
Me: Go play with Gimli, he's bored.
G: He's an idiot, you need my help more than - ooooh a MOTH!

I think I need help.

And FYI, it's 11pm, the kittens are now wrestling, and Service Pack 1 is currently "thinking"

All Over The Place...

Warning: This post is long, moaning and whiny.

You may have noticed, that, aside from a couple of stroppy moaning posts, 0ddness has been fairly quiet for a goodly amount of time.  I DO have excuses, I am moody, angry, pissed off, sad, busy...

When I say "We've not stopped of late" I am so NOT over-exaggerating.  Everything has been a constant had graft for the last few weeks, and it was either a constant stream of pissed off or depressing blog posts, or to just step away from it and take a breath.

Things are STILL all over the place, but none the less...

The biggest shitter of the moment would be the loss of Arwen, the little cat I had gotten Kellie a couple of years back.  We were sat curled up on the sofa watching TV one night a few weeks back, when someone knocked on the door and asked if we owned a little black and white cat.  I knew what was next, and looked past her, and saw her lying in the road.

As Kellie put on on her status, she might not have been the full ticket - just search "Arwen" on here and find pictures of her being an idiot - but she was a wonderful cat, quite probably the most loving one I've ever had the pleasure of knowing.  She grew up on Canvey, and the road she lived on, the traffic stopped for her.  Long Riding is a busy road, and it was dark, and, well, I dreaded the day.

I KNOW there are those of you out there that are thinking to yourself "It's just a cat" and that might be true.  But she was brilliant and will be very missed.

Just a week before she died, we were talking about getting her a little friend, but weren't sure what we should do - obviously we didn't want to just "replace" Arwen, but the house just seemed strange without her running about doing cat-things.  A week later, I went out to look at a few litters of kittens, and through no fault of my own, returned with *cough*two*cough* kittens for Kellie...

We WERE going to call them Katrina & Gustav, after the hurricanes that hit the USA, but they just don't seem to be sticking...  So, currently, they remain nameless, but ARE very cute:

So, that is that section of the interesting things...

On a personal level, I am having lots of problems, thanks to both lack of sleep, and an abundance of pain.  I am constantly very tired, cranky, I feel sick, I have a near-constant headache, I've got a sore throat (I suspect I've got a cold kinda sorta trying to push its way out), my hands hurt, plus the tiredness is making me paranoid and worry over the most stupid of things.  I find myself questioning everything, but when I try to vocalise it, I just sound like a whiny little boy, so don't.  I do what I do best, put on a smile, suck it up and try to just get on with life and put a shiny façade on the outside.

Ideally, I need to get back to the GP and tell him that, while I didn't have too many issues on the Amytriptyline, they stopped doing anything after a couple of weeks.  No pain relief, no help sleeping, nothing.  So on Friday morning, I am going to phone Mr Doctor Man and get an appointment.  Jaysen & Tam are going back to their mum Thursday, Dom is going to his nan Thursday night, leaving Molly here.  Kellie has Friday off (hopefully, assuming her boss/friend in work is in with her broken wrist!) so I can pop out and not worry about bored kids being, well, bored.

On the work-front, Kellie has had some good news, which is something.  The place she currently works - which is owned by Kerrys dad - is having a jiggle... Kellie was there while Kerry was up the duff and then dealing with a newborn, but at the beginning of September, she is going back to work, meaning Kellies job would be over.  However... And bare with me on this... Christopher, one of the asbestos analysts, has taken a job elsewhere.  Kerry recently passed her asbestos-analysis-type-exam, and so she is going back to work but in Christophers place.  With the system they work on being overhauled, Kerrys job, which was full-time, is now going part time.  Kellie was saying a few weeks back that she loves the job, but isn't sure she loves full time work as she misses the kids... But now Kerrys job is part time, and Kerry is changing, that leaves her job open - which means Kellie can carry on what she is loving, flexible part time, with the people she loves working with.

Clear as mud?

In short, Kellie is staying in her job, with less hours (that we want, as I miss her too!) and doesn't have to go through the rigmarole of job hunting.

Flowing from current jobs to previous, Gimme Gizmo, you will be happy to hear, will see all their blog posts back, as I have found a new host thanks to James, hosted in Germany.  And you know what they do?  They PROTECT free speech AND their customer.  So as soon as the Domain is shifted away from Namesco - who do not support their customers - and to the new company in Germany, then all the original Gimme Gizmo/DRW posts will return to the world.

A boost to my ego/confidence today, however, came from my diet.  I know I have the diet blog, and I admit I have been lax in updating it of late thanks to how busy everything is... Last week, thanks to a combination of eating out, a take-away, and feeling poorl, I had my first weight gain since starting the diet.  Granted, it was only a pound, but it pissed me off, and made me work harder this week.

Perhaps I worked a little too hard maybe, as even with a pizza I NEEDED during the week, I managed to take off seven and a half pounds!!  Needless to say, the girls at Slimming World threatened to push me down the stairs (all in jest, I should add), but I was very chuffed.  Today, I reached my two-stone-lost goal, and have now officially lost 10% of my starting body weight.  In ten weeks.

Not too shabby.

Otherwise, there is all the stuff I am not posting on the blog.  Other stuff that is hitting the fan and just causing stress and stuff, that I am not posting so they can't throw stuff at us.  Not yet, anyway. Depriving them of ammunition, would be the best description.

The WORST part of this shit-storm, is the negative affect it is having on Kellie, and the fact that I am can do precisely nothing to help her.  I HATE feeling useless, I HATE not being able to do something to make it better, to fix it... So Kellie is having a shit time of late, and all I can do is hold her hand and be there for her.

I know that everything seems worse as I am so damn tired, and I am sure some of you are reading this thinking "Well, there are worse things..." but it's all just on top of me right now, so hopefully by blogging it out of my system, I'll be able to put things into perspective a little more and get my arse into gear.  Give it a while, and I will get my arse into gear and start blogging on a regular basis once again.

So, Hi!

Well, as much as I know you all love my excuses, the last few weeks have been very... MORESO than usual. Sickness, drama, sadness, amusement, chaos.

The usual ingredients that make up 0ddness.  And I'm not even sure where to start, so in no particular order, this will be a generic catchup post (and, likely, veeeery long winded!)

Germs & Stuff
The Easter holidays got off to a stonking start.  Not.  Dominic came back from skiing in Austria, went to his dads, and spent time with his poorly half-brother.  Germs that he promptly bought home.  The night he came home, he felt a bit poorly.

Then started puking in the early hours.

Ever notice how sickness & diarrhea viruses strike in the night?  I don't think I can recall dealing with someone at, say, lunchtime, developing such a bug.

So, that night I was scrubbing a bed, washing sheets and a duvet, while Kellie and Dom spent the night in the living room so she could keep an eye on him.  All night, and most of the following day, he was a poorly boy, and Kellie was exhausted.  So I took the other three, and we spent the day wandering Gloucester Park, feeding ducks, and I exhausted the kids by making them run up the big hill.

That night, it was Mollys turn.  Kellie was still knackered, so I was on puke-duty, but thankfully, she didn't have it quite as bad as Dom.  He was full-on being sick, bursting blood vessels around his face and such like.  Molly, however, was puking in her bowl, rolling over and going back to sleep.

So the following day, Molly slept in bed with Kellie, Dom was fine, and Jaysen & Tam went out and about doing stuff.  Kellie developed a dodgy tummy, but wasn't sick, but I confined her to bed regardless. 

Sod. That,

That night, Jaysen took the role of Pukemaster.  So I was up and down with him, and again, it was nothing like when Dom had it.  Wake up, puke, wash hands and face, brush teeth, take clean bowl back to bed.  The following day, Jaysen stayed in bed, and the other three were kicked out.  Kellie was better but drained, and I was running on fumes, fully expecting Tam and/or me to be next.

But we escaped!  She was fine and dandy (though bored of being told which child was off limits that day), and I was just exhausted.

The shitter of it all, was that with Dom being away for Kellies birthday, plus Jaysen & Tamsyn being at Jo's for the week, we were all going out for a birthday meal for Kellie on Friday with family and friends.  However, with everyone having been sick, we decided to postpone it.  The second shitter, was we were supposed to go out on the Saturday as well, but again, we said no no no to that, just in case.  Saturday, I spent the day in the front garden trying to find a "lawn" and "flower beds" and removing all the rubbish that had blown onto it.  It was boiling hot, and no matter how much I drank, I was gasping.  By the evening, I could hardly move.  Oops.

Sunday, however, we were invited to Dianes (the Future 0dd Mother In Law That Irons Bed Linen) for a barbeque and some drinkies.  As no one had been ill for a few days, we said hell yes - we needed out - and went over there first thing Sunday.  We spent the first half of the day in the sun in the garden, having a few beers and eating, then in the afternoon we headed over to the beach and spent the afternoon sunning ourselves there.  Well, Kellie, Diane and Jon flopped on the sand, me and kids went crab hunting.

That evening, Diane me and three kids home.  Molly went to her dads, and Kellie spent the evening with her mum and Grandad.  On the way home, I felt a bit sick.  Not germy sick, not car sick, but sicky.  The boys, Tam and Me got in, sorted ourselves out and chilled out for a bit.  I was drinking water as I felt really peculiar.

Tam came into the lounge chatting to me and Dom, and my stomach sounded the alarm.  "Attention, these contents are evacuating. Now!"

I was out the chair, virtually threw Tam onto the armchair out the way and barely made it to the sink.  WOW was I sick.  Dom has never had the pleasure of Dan puking, and I've always warned them that I sound like a very badly injured cow being probed with something electrical.

Tam nipped upstairs and grabbed me toilet paper, Dom ran around getting me a drink, Jaysen rushed off to grab my tooth brush... After the shock of being sick passed, I felt MUCH better, but exhausted.  Dom put Tam to bed, Jaysen made sure I was OK, and I just flopped on the sofa.  One of the boys phoned Kellie to let her know I was sick too for good measure.

And that was it for me.  No more sicky feeling, no more being sick, just exhausted.  The general consensus is I spent two days in the sun and that my brain boiled a bit.

Ho Hum.

In other medical news - Kellies testing and probing is still on going.  The last batch of tests revealed precisely Sod and All, and last week she had another blood test, of which we're waiting on results.


Chaos
The reason for the front garden getting blitzed was thanks to my housing people letting me know that our roof is getting replaced.  Being the house is flat-roofed, and three stories in the air, they needed to erect scaffolding.  So I decided in my wisdom to trim the grass.  I say trim, it hadn't been cut since October/November of last year, so it was more like a meadow.

I strimmed it back, thinking it'd be wet underneath, but it was only a bit damp.  With the brilliant sunshine and April heatwave we had, I figured it'd dry pretty quickly, so I raked it off, and collected all the rubbish up.  Then mowed the lawn.  The weeded the flowerbeds. Then trimmed the bushes.  Then laid slabs under the front window.  Then washed the front window.  And washed the window frame. Then repotted a load of plants and lugged them into place on the slabs.  Topped up Bethys cherry tree.  Spread compost under the bushes.

HOURS I was out there and knackered out, but it looks sooo much better.  The scaffolding out there now looks shite, but Arwen is enjoying jumping onto it from the windows, so at least someone is appreciative of it!

Additionally, Kellie has now started working again, albeit in a temporary role covering Kerrys maternity leave. Monday to Friday, 9-5, and she's loving it.  She's in an office working for Kerrys dad in his asbestos testing/removal company, and while it's busy, she is really enjoying herself.  The chaos aspect?  Trying to get through to various government departments to tell them of a change of circumstance.  HELLISH! Three or four hours to talk to two departments.  And we still have two to go!  DOH!


Drama & Sadness
In miserable news, my poor little Sally dog had to be put to sleep last week :(  For regular readers, you'll know that Sally has been a poorly doggy for almost three years now, to and fro the vets every two to four weeks, pills, shampoos, lotions, potions, injections, biopsies... You name it, the poor little mutt went through it.  The official line from the vets that shall rename nameless was that she had an auto-immune condition that caused her body to have serious issues with her skin and tried to remove it.  The checks for bugs and tumors and cancers and everything else, but apparently no, just the autoimmune stuff.  And a gammy leg-joint so she limped a bit.

Over the last eight months, she has rapidly gotten worse.  The vets line never changed.  It didn't matter that she spent most of the time wetting herself, that she was losing weight, that her eyes occasionally gummed over.  The cure for ALL that was "Shampoo once a week, special wash once a week"

A few weeks back I decided something had to be done for her, and called the vet.  They said continue with the shampooing. I called rescue charities (no one will want an old sick dog), I called the RSPCA (we don't take unwanted pets), I called the vets (shampoooooo!)... NO ONE wanted to know.

But last week, a lady from the RSPCA turned up on the doorstep.  They'd had a report of a neglected dog from a neighbour. She came in and spent time with me and Sally, and I plonked all the medical reports on her lap, all her drugs and stuff, and she said it was obvious she WASN'T neglected, but that she was definitely not well.  And that at her age, anything invasive would probably spell the end, and said maybe the best thing for her would be to put her to sleep.

It was shit, a horrible decision, but I know it was for the best.  The lady was really nice, really supportive, and said it was clear she was a well loved, looked after dog - and to get a white boxer to around 15 years old was well impressive.  So go Sally Dog.

She came back a while later to let me know it was all done, apologised that it had to be done, returned her collar and lead, and let me know that she went very peacefully, wagging her stupid tail the whole time.

She even called me the day after to make sure I was OK.  So full marks to the RSPCA, even though they didn't listen to ME, they came through in the end.

But wait.

Yesterday, RSPCA Lady is back on my front door step.  Very apologetic.  "We've had another report about neglected rabbits" she said.  So back through she came, into the garden, and spent time with two fat, well fed, fluffy bunnies that are anything BUT neglected.  Yes, they need a larger cage but we're still waiting to grab the other half of the Bunny Mansion.

So went through her paperwork and said its obvious they are well fed, looked after, but to make sure they get their bigger cage and are able to exercise more.  Fair enough.

But it would seem that we now have a neighbour that is being a fuck head.  If said-neighbour was that worried about the bunnies, then surely when they reported Sally, they would have reported the bunnies at the same time?  But no, this was another, new complaint.

The really pissing-us-off thing is, as far as we know, we've never annoyed or angered any of our neighbours.  The new people next door can't see the rabbits from their garden, which means it has to be someone to the right.  The old couple next door would have knocked on the door if they had any concerns.  There are newish people on the other side of them, so I am wondering if somehow we've annoyed them?

Kellie got in from work and I let her know.  She was reeeeally pissed off.  The bunnies are her pride and joy (her babies, as she calls them!) so she called the RSPCA and explained to them what is going on, and has *cough*politely*cough* asked them to inform the person reporting them that no action has been taken, and to kindly keep their noses to themselves.

Other chaos in Chez 0ddness... Well, we've shifted some bedrooms around which was a complete MISSION.  The boys had the medium room, while Tam had the large room.  So we swapped them.  The boys, however, live like complete and utter slobs, and it took an entire DAY just to clear the rubbish out their room.  We then had to disassemble beds and sort through toys and clothes, move stuff, relocate stuff, move stuff, reassemble stuff...

I'll also skip the part of dropping a fully-assembled bed on my noggin.

In total, THAT little shebang took three days in total, but is much better now.  And now Kellie is getting ready to start decorating.  Mollys room first (it's the smallest!), followed by Tamsyns room, and finally, the boys room.  They are currently in a girl-decorated room, and are not getting their room done until they can learn to keep it tidy, bring down dirty cups and glasses, and bring down their dirty laundry.  The last MOUNTAIN of gross clothes is still a work in process.

Oh yes, and the tumbler has died as well, so the laundry is taking ages.


I'd like to say "that's it!" but I am sure there is more stuff that I am forgetting... It has literally been one thing after another, getting into routines, then having to change those routines, and trying to get some semblance of order in our little world.

Creature Comforts

I really hope Arwen is comfortable... She's so laid back, not even the flash going off disturbed her!

Location : Basildon, Essex SS14 1QY,
Posted on my HTC Desire HD (so apologies for strange formatting or random Predictive Typing spelling mistakes!)

The Things She Says #7

So, we're sat on the bed ready to start another day, Kellie is hurting with arthritis joints, and she's chatting away about, well, nothing.

"She's tall, isn't she?" comes the question of the day.

Now recent visitors to the room include Tam (who is not), Molly (who is not) and the cat (who, obviously, is a cat).

Can you guess who Kellie was talking about?

"Arwen -" I knew it "- has really long legs."

I check Arwen. She is, in fact, still a cat and NOT a weird giraffe/cat hybrid. Nor is she on stilts. She is, for the record, cat-shaped and cat-sized.

"And -" oh god, there's more "- she had pokey feet like your pokey fingers."

Now granted, I do have pokey fingers, but the cat is just fat. And as such, heavy.  Unless I'm mistaken, and she's not fat, it's the weight of her legs pulling her down..

Location : 38-56 Long Riding, Basildon, Essex SS14 1,
Posted on my HTC Desire HD (so apologies for strange formatting or random Predictive Typing spelling mistakes!)

The Sad Sad Dog

As you may recall from a previous post, I am currently the proud owner of a very sad looking mutt.  Sally Dog, once again, has been a poorly girl, but I am happy to report that after her day at the vet on Thursday, she is definitely on the mend.

From when she got in Thursday afternoon, up till I went to bed, she was looking very sad, her face was still a bit "oozey" and she was by no means a happy healthy dog.  During the night, I could hear her pacing up and down, trying to remove her head from the collar, trying her damnest to rub her face and itch herself through it.  I went down to check on her a couple of times, and she was pressed right up against walls and door frames, trying her hardest to scratch her face.

Thankfully, the collar stopped her shredding her skin.  The downside, of course, was that with a weepy, oozey face, all the gunge had smeared around the inside of the collar.  So Friday morning, that needed a good scrubbing out.

Friday daytime, I was in and out a bit with kids, and Kellie and doing various stuff, but she was clearly better than she had been for the previous week.  Still quite groggy, but that would be the anesthetic and stuff she'd had Thursday still leaving her system.  Friday afternoon, we headed over to Kellies, and despite her being sickened by the sight of her, Kellie DID pity her, and even treated the sad old mutt to a nice new fluffy bed.

Which took her an hour to work out how to get in it.  But I digress.

Saturday morning, we come down to find that Sally has NOT pee'd herself during the night.  The anti-incontinence tablets are excellent little things, so that's a plus.  She seemed a little bit sore, and it occurred to me that today was also the day she was allowed to start taking her anti-inflammatories - I had to wait till Saturday to give them as she was loaded with drugs from Thursday still.  So, with her breakfast, I added the painkillers to the no-pee-pills and the no-germs-pills...

Kellie and Myself headed out for a couple of hours Saturday - had to pay some money to the hall people, had to get some bits in town, and when we got in, Sally was up and about, wagging tail and everything else.  Gave her her next dose of antibiotics, and sorted out her special wash...

This stuff has to be applied once a week, 10ml in a 1000ml of warm water.  The vet had warned me to do it outside due to the fumes, so I was prepared for a little mushroom cloud to hit the atmosphere as I added it to the water, but no such luck.

I was most disappointed to be honest.

The plus side is, it smells like petrol.  Or creosote, or Jeyes Fluid...  I can't quite place it, but still, it's actually a really nice smell! I took off the Collar of Shame and proceeded to wash her down.  As usual, she stood there and accepted what was sent her way.  From the tip of her tail to the start of her nose, I washed her down, making sure the fur was saturated to the skin, and that her sore bits had special attention paid to them.

She then sat in the sun and dried off, though the smell dissipated pretty quickly.  She still smells a bit weird from the infection and that, but still...

So, Sunday morning (still dry through the night!) I check on her to see how she is, and she's so far down the road to improvement it cracks me up.  The previously weepy oozey face is now drying right out and is probably more on the road to being "scabby" which, while still hideous, is better than being pus-filled.  It's drying and cracking and while she still wants to itch it, I consider that a plus too - let's face it, scabs itch and are bloody annoying.

So the Collar of Shame is remaining firmly in place.

As further proof that the painkillers are doing their job too, I peeked in on her earlier, and she was up on the trampoline once again... The vet had said that doing such a thing might make her shoulder sore, but then, how do you stop a dog doing that?  And don't say "Be strict, tell her no" because A) she doesn't listen, B) she's a stubborn old woman, and C) if it were that easy, I'd tell her to not itch too.  Not to mention, she's like a kid, and is female.

I am pleased to say that Miss Sally Dog is definitely on the road to recovery, and while she's still smelly, and while she still looks like a zombie, she's is improving.

Define: Dejected

I have a poorly doggy, and while it's not as bad as it looks, she is the very definition of dejected at the moment.

A couple of weeks ago, she had a funny patch of skin on top of her head.  Like a Good Dan, I cleaned and bathed it, put some cream on it, and after a week or so, it disappeared and the hair grew back.  Skip forwards another week, and it appeared to come back a bit.

Over the space of the next five days, it came back, spread and covered the top of her hair.  And it was gross.  And smelled a bit funny.  Then the skin around her eye started going too, and started to swell closed.  Being that she is a Boxer, she really did look like someone had smacked her good and proper.  BUT she seemed OK, so I called the vet and made an appointment for them to have a lookie see.

Over the next few days, it started to look really evil.  EVIL, in fact, and then by Tuesday it was "leaking" or weeping or whatever the term might be.  Only two days for the vet, I thought.

Wednesday morning, her other eye started swelling.  When I say "eye" I do mean the skin around her eye, just to clarify ;)  Wednesday afternoon, I decided enough was enough and called the vet for an emergency appointment.  The woman was a bit snotty, but compared to the bitch in my previous post, we shall let that one live...

Wednesday evening, the vet opened her door, and her first words were "Oh my goodness that's disgusting..."  YES she was talking to the dog you smart arse ready with the comment aimed at me!  She even referred to her as Frankenstein at one point.  Bless her heart, I love Sally to bits, but she looks VILE.

She checked her over and while she was sure she wasn't in pain or danger, she wanted it sorted out, and asked me to bring her back first thing in the morning so they could knock her out, give it a really good clean, dose her on antibiotics, and check her over.  Fair enough.  For the night, however, she wanted to give her body a kick start, so gave her a big fat injection of antibiotics.  And Sally being, well, Sally, stood there, not a mutter nor a murmer while the vet stuck her with a needle.... Wagging her tail, no less.

I had a bit of a palava getting some forms completed (see previous post...) but eventually she was in and being sorted.

All day, she was at the vets - and eventually I got the call to collect her...  Well, if she looked crap this morning, this evening she looks like she just wants some anti-depressants.

As usual, they've done a great job (No, not sarcasm) and given her a good going over.  They suspect she has some sort of autoimmune problem, the name of which escapes me, but manifests in the joints and the face of dogs.  Ie, my dog, who last year could barely walk thanks to her funny joints, and this year has a face like Hannible Lechter had a snack.  So, makes sense.

She's also got calcification of a tendon on her right shoulder, which explains the funny limp she has on and off when she's been asleep for a while.  Apparently, it's similar to our tendonitus as people.  She's also incontinent (still).  So, her funny face has an infection in it, her leg is a bit sore, and she pees a lot.

Oh, they also took a chuck of flesh for a biopsy, and a load of bloods, just for good measure.

So, as of today, she is on a truck load of Antibiotics (for the infection in her skin), some Anti-inflammatories (for the sore leg), some Anti-Peeing Herself Meds (er... for the pee), and she has a special wash I have to apply once a week (to help her skin heal all the funny stuff going on).  I have to apply the wash outside, mind you, because the fumes might knock me out.

The main thing is, and I double checked with the vets, is that she is not in pain, she is not suffering, and she is not ill per se,  just a bit under the weather.  She compared Sally to her nan - a bit doddery, smells, pees herself, but does her own thing on her own terms.

Not sure I'd like to meet her nan, to be honest.  But, Sally is fit, healthy, and - for a white boxer - has a really good heart...  I think I mentioned before, but Boxers are prone to congenital heart defects.  But not this one.

However, due to her skin being really sore, and that she nibbles and licks and itches and rubs anything annoying her, they've given her a Collar of Shame.  So aside from looking like some sort of serial killer victim, she looks like a serial killer victim with a comedy collar on.

But she is soooo unimpressed, and I think her expression says it all...

Poor Sad Doggy

On the bright side, when the assistant bought her in to me, she gave Sally a glowing report.  Apparently they don't get many dogs that are constantly friendly, but Sally was wagging her tail to everyone - even when they were putting her under anesthetic it was still going - and all day while she was recovering, she was all groggy and tottering around with her tail banging on the cage, happy to see everyone.

So, this evening, she is snuggled down on her bed, she's just eaten and made a mess, but I don't mind.  She's had her meds too, and I suspect with the amount of drugs banging around in her system, she should sleep well tonight.

I'll keep you posted on her!

Snotty Cow

Dear The-Woman-At-The-Council-This-Morning..

I get it.  I honestly do get it.  However, it shouldn't make you act like a rude, ignorant cow.  I understand that your day to day job probably entails dealing with what some might class as the Dregs of Society.  Hell, I live near some of them, and having to deal with them each and every day probably IS wearing on the old nerves.

But it still does not give you the license to act like a stuck up, aloof hag to everyone that walks in.

I arrived at your council offices this morning after dashing to one side of Basildon, and then back to the other other.  I know what the Council offices are normally like, so I was prepared to sit and wait patiently, and even though I was there early enough to get "Ticket Number 5" I wasn't holding my breath to be seen quite so quickly.

When my number did pop up, I was at your desk in less than 15 seconds, and the fact the chairs in front of you were still tucked in suggested you hadn't dealt with anyone as yet.  The fact you were leaned back in your chair talking to another woman I couldn't see, while nursing a nearly full cup of coffee, also suggested I was your first of the day.

Now, I might be one of your dregs of society, but I am always polite, I was relatively neat and tidy, and I had a smile on my face.

So when you looked across at me and rolled your eyes at my appearance, I was a little taken aback.  I expected "Good morning, how can I help?" but what I got instead was "And what is it you're after?"

I pulled out a chair - no, I hadn't even sat down and you were starting on the offensive - and unfurled my paperwork.  I explained politely that my dog was quite poorly, that she was in with the vets at the PDSA, and that while I was on certain benefits, my most recently letter wasn't at least six months old, and that, if possible, could you please sign this form that they requested I get signed so my rather poorly dog could be treated.

"What form?"

So as I handed you my form - or at least attempted to hand you my form - you leaned back and continued your X-Factor conversation.  So I sat like a penis holding this form across the table.  When you snatched it from me, I was really surprised.

Considering my name and address was right in front of you on both the form AND the computer screen, I don't understand why I then got the third degree.  How many in your property, what benefits are you claiming, how much do you get in a week.... Hellooooo, I'm already ON Housing and Council Tax Benefit - I just needed you to sign the form.

Despite my brain screaming at me to get your coffee and pour it over your keyboard while inserting the mains lead up your arse, I answered politely as usual.  You then started tapping away on your keyboard.

Started, then stopped, to discuss some X-Factor person being deported.  Or something...  You then took my form and wandered off -with your coffee - and disappeared.  No "excuse me a sec" or anything, just wandered off.

You then came back with two copies - mine and a file copy that I had to sign for some reason, and sat back in your chair, and resumed talking about how it's wrong to kick out someone with such talent.

So I stood up, and said thank you very much.  You gave me your nicest "Did I step in shit or you" expression.  So, as I started to leave, I realised I'd left my chair sticking out and popped back into your field of vision.  "Yes?"

"Er, forgot to tuck my chair in..." I said, ignoring your tut as I escaped back into the sunshine.

I get that you probably deal with a truck load of ass-hats in a day, but I am not one of them, and you have CHOSEN your job.  If I interrupted your gossip coffee break at 9.30 this morning, I DO apologise, but if you don't like you job, do us all a favour and kindly

F$CK OFF.

Yours,
Mr Polite But In A Rush

Funny How It Turns Out...

You know sometimes you have those thoughts of things from your past?  You'll be sitting down quietly, or laying in bed in the dead of night, and something pops into your mind.  I had such a moment a few weeks ago, and kept meaning to blog about it, but, being that I am an ever-so-busy little bee, I'm only now remembering to do it!

So, laying in bed, I was thinking back to my childhood and the pets either I had or - more importantly - my grandparents.  And within a few moments, my mind put one thing together with another, and then a third thing coupled together with a fourth, and...

Oh my goodness.

Both of my grandparents had dogs when we were kids.  My paternal grandmother had a Spaniel, and my maternal grandmother had a German Shepherd.

Their names?

Respectively, Jason and Tam.

Yep, that funny HERCK!? noise your brain just made?  Yep, mine did that too.  So yes, it's funny how things turn out.

PS - no image on here as Blogger is refusing to allow me to upload them.  Normal nor Draft.  DOH.

PPS - Spacing is broken too... What the heck is going on?!

Fight or Flight

The "fight-or-flight response", also called the "fight-or-flight-or-freeze response", the "fright, fight or flight response", "hyperarousal" or the "acute stress response", was first described by Walter Cannon in 1929.

His theory states that animals react to threats with a general discharge of the sympathetic nervous system, priming the animal for fighting or fleeing. This response was later recognized as the first stage of a general adaptation syndrome that regulates stress responses among vertebrates and other organisms.

Today, I tested my Fight or Flight response to the very limit.  And, unsurprisingly, it was flight.  Flight, run, flee, escape, exit-stage-anywhere...

Today while at Kellies, the damn cat can running in with a present.  Me and Kellie were sat in her front garden, sunning ourselves while the kids marauded around being, well, kids.  She was on the phone, and I was aimlessly wandering around as I tend to do.  Arwen - the damn cat - shot past me with something long and wiggly in her mouth.  I thought it was something I wouldn't like, made a girlie strangled sound, pointed, but my sweetheart didn't notice.

Realising the damn cat had now entered the house - where there was new carpeting - I decided I'd run in after her in an effort to get her to run out again from terror.  So, I fly in through the front door, to see the damn cat hunched in the hall - on the new carpet.  I shout at her and stomp and run at her, and she runs.

All I now see in front of me is a seething mass of demon creature.  A bloody snake.  And herein lies problem the first.  I am large, tall, wide, and moving at a fair pace.  No, I would not stop in time, so in a moment of pure "TA-DAH!" I leap over the bloody snake, and slide to a halt in the kitchen.  I spin on my feet, and my worst fears are confirmed.

Yes, it's a bloody snake.
Yes, I am now cornered in the kitchen.
Yes, holy mother of all things with legs, the bloody snake is still alive.  And wiggling.  And moving.

It was at that point my body tried to do two things.  The first was burst into tears.  The second was to just turn out the lights.  Night night, sleep tight.  I pictured my unconscious mass being overrun by the bloody snake.  Not on my watch.

Hell no.

Kellie comes running in to see what I'm doing.  I squeak something about the snake on the floor, and my heroine rushes over to it, takes on look, and rushes out again with a "I can't touch that!"  So I am still cornered, still trying not to cry and trying not to faint.

OhmygodOhmygodOhmygod it's still alive.

"I'll get Mr Neighbour Man!" Kellie shouts over her shoulder as she exits the premises and turns out of sight.

So, cornered in the kitchen, I do the only thing I can do.  First, I need to get out before it eats me alive.  Second, I can't go past it in case, well, it eats me alive.  I consider smashing the cooking tin over it, but think either A) I'll pass out, and it'll eat me, or B) I'll survive the snake, but the Kellie will see the mess on her carpet, and thus kill me.

I opt for the lesser of the two evils.  I'm pouring with sweat, I'm trying to hold it together...  I grab a bucket.  I make another graceful leap, and as I fly past the bloody snake, I plonk the bucket OVER it. 

And with moves that can only be described as Super Human, I bound out the house and keep running.  About thirty feet from the house. 

Mr Neighbour Man is coming out of his house chuckling at Kellie.  Aw bless, she's scared of a little snake.  He sees me.  "Why doesn't he get it?!" he asks.  I think I might have used a bad word.  Kellie laughed (!!!!) and said he doesn't like them, really, full on doesn't like them.  Mr Neighbour Man goes into the house, and comes out again.  He wants a glove. 

See, it's not just me!

He goes back in with a gardening glove on, and comes back out with my carefully placed bucket.  I know what's in there, and I move another ten feet back.  Mrs Neighbour Lady is laughing at me, telling Mr Neighbour Man to chase me with it.  He responds with "Look at the state of him, he'll be gone before I even move" and it's true.

I'm probably white as a ghost, I'm quivering like a leaf, and sweating like a fat man in a cake shop.

The bloody snake is removed, Kellie comes over to tell me it's all ok, Mr and Mrs Neighbour People are chuckling at me.

At 11.25am I had a very large Jack Daniels and Coke.  Followed by another fifteen minutes later.  About an hour later, I stop quivering.

And now, writing about it has made me all sweaty again.  Bloody snake.  Damn cat.

I would like to thank the world for it's support today - I believe I had two or three "Poor Dan" comments, while the rest of the world praised the cat.  I'll get you next time...

Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to change my dress.

Strange Bedfellows

Some evenings I strike it lucky.

Let me rephrase that, you dirty minded so-and-so.

Some nights, the kids decide that instead of sitting up till bedtime, then actively resisting bedtime, that, after dinner, they would rather like to go to bed with a DVD and a glass of milk.

Yes sir, thank you sir.  Night kids!

It's the nights like these that I love, the kids are tucked in and settled early, and if Tam makes it to the end of whatever she's watching, she's done well.

This evening, they did just that.

So, when they get into bed early, I too get into bed early.  Me and the Laptop.  The choice de jour is either Reign of Blood, a vampire web game that is far too addictive, as well as going through finding random mildly amusing images to giggle at.  At least, that was the plan.

The phone rings, and Mr James is calling.  Which is a miracle as my phone has been ignoring him the last few days.  Lucky for me, Orange customer service is very nifty, so when I called, they pressed a button, I got a text, turned the phone off, turned it back on - fixed.

So, Mr James phones, and we're talking about serious matters.  M25 Traffic, how he's wearing sunglasses while driving in the rain, why he swore at bankers.  Very high-brow and world-changing matters.  However, all that changed when your adventurous and very very brave author yelped...

"Eeek there's a spider!"

I said eek.  I'm sorry.  I know you thought this amazingly talented chap was braver than a naked bank robber on PCP, but I eek'd.  I'm man enough to admit it.

"What, don't you do spiders?" James asked.
"Oh I don't mind them -" I replied "- but not in f$cking bed with me!"

As I was saying this, I was vaulting across the bed for something - anything - to catch the hairy beast.  And it's true.  Spiders really don't bother me.  I know there are some of you that will probably eek as well when you see the pic down there...  Spiders don't bother me, but when this chap happily marched over the bed clothes and onto my pillow - MY PILLOW - then enough was enough.

Bed Bugs

THAT- my friends - is the chap trying to share my bed this evening.  And to put it into perspective, that shiny white object he is trapped in, that's a large china bowl.  I could hear him scraping in it for Christs sake!!

I think tonight I will sleep with a stocking over my head and mouth, just in case.  It might be a myth that you eat 8 spiders a year while sleeping, but none the less...

My New Mate

It's strange, how someone new in your life can make you smile.

Yesterday, while I was on the phone to Kellie, I was rather surprised to see someone having a wander about in my back garden, nosing around, seeing what was what and what was where.

He's not very old I don't think, but he's nosey and bold - maybe a little wet behind the ears - but I'm sure that with time, he'll become a bit more aware of the world around him.  Of course, I didn't want to open the back door and introduce myself - I am fairly sure Sally would disapprove (you know how these girls can be) and I didn't want to scare him away.

Actually, thinking about it, I think it might be a girl fox (yes yes, vixen) after seeing her sit to pee instead of lifting a leg to have a whizz.

After all, foxes can be strange folks. 

Now I think she's living under the decking next door - it's sheltered and with all the junk under there, it's prolly fairly well insulated.  I also suspect she's been out there a while - I just never noticed - as Sally keeps doing strange things at the back door and getting wound up for no reason.

Earlier on, Jo popped over to drop Tam off and I was telling her about the fox in my garden yesterday - and she said "Like that one on your shed?"  and lo-and-behold, there she was, sitting up, surveying the gardens from atop my shed roof.

No, they don't bother me at all - I love foxes and it's not my first run in with them, especially of late.  No doubt I'll be putting food scraps out there for her now to make sure she doesn't get hungry - especially in this cold weather.  She's not very big, but luckily still has meat on her bones.  Bright eyed and bushy tailed, as they say.

 

  

  

  

You'll have to click the photos to see her.  No, it's not a cat ;)  If you're struggling, she's back-left on the shed.

Home Again

Once more, I have returned to the den of iniquity that is Chéz 0ddness.  Since Monday evening, I've been lounging around at Kellies while she ran around after me.  Thanks to those that suggested snakes to make me move...

Bastards..

Now, usually I would be moaning and pissing about how useless I felt and rubbish I felt for not being able to help.  And when I say "I was no help" that's not an exaggeration.  Five days after the original ouchie, it feels no better.  I've tried a little weight on it, but no dice.  I didn't cry though, so that's something ;)

So, I've managed to do NOTHING except be fed and watered and rest.  I peed twice each day because I couldn't face the stairs, so went first thing and last thing each day.  Yes, I have a cast-iron bladder.

And now, I am home again.  Cel is re-delivering the mutt in the next hour or two.  Jo is delivering the spawn around 6pm or so.  Thankfully I did my housework Sunday afternoon, so the house will be clean at least for a little while longer - till the Dog and Kids return, but it's the thought that counts.

Of course, it's not all roses.  I get in to a small mountain of mail, and discover one of the benefit agencies - my Incapacity Benefit no less - have decided that in the last year they've overpaid me.  Now, usually, they'd reduce the benefit by a little till it's recovered, but no no, not now.

They want £1850.  In full.  Now.  Mother F**ker A**hole W**kers.  Lucky for them, they are closed till Monday, so hopefully I'll be less angry when I call them.

F'kers.

But anyway, other than that, all is hunky-dorey in the land of me.  Aside from this bloody pain.  I'm giving it till Wednesday, and if it's no better, then I'll give them a call and... erm.. whine, probably ;)

Blogging From The Island

Despite the word on the street, I am neither dead, nor missing presumed dead.  I am, as mentioned in a previous post, staying with Kellie this week - along with Tam and Jaysen and Sally.

The journey here was actually easy peasy, despite my worries on the subject.  We've been very busy, with kids parties, adventure play areas, walking, the pub, arcades...

It's not all great and fluffy though... Last night, I got a phone call from Cel.  Usually Sally stays with her, and she comes back to the house to feed the cats, but with Sally being with me, she only needed to pop in and sort them out.  When she got there last night, she found Dipstick had died in the hallway :(

She checked him over, but couldn't see any sign of injury or anything, so it's a mystery why he died.  He was only six, and we'd had him since his satanic mother, Sinny, gave birth to him.  Me and Jaysen are really going to miss him, as will anyone that knew him.  Poor little mite.

Jo and Steve came over to Kellies this morning to bring Jaysen back - he was collected last night to go see an Alice Cooper concert.  Jo is upset about Dip too - he used to sit on her lap while she was on her computer.  I couldn't face leaving Dip till I got home, so Jo and Steve have gone back to mine to bury him in the garden.

I'm in two minds (well, three) as to what to do next.  Part of me doesn't want to replace him - he was a completely unique kitty.  Part of me wants to get a kitten to replace him, but then there's the worry about ending up with an evil cat, or a timid one or something.  Part of me is tempted to get a rescue cat - adolescent or something - but then there's the whole Dog issue, and getting an older animal...

Watch this space.

Anyway - Kellie has taken the boys swimming this afternoon, while I'm sitting with the girls.  Where I've been so busy the last few days, I woke up thinking "owie", and by the time I got up and sorted myself out it went to "f'king OW" so I'm being lazy and doing nothing.

So, aside from the shitty news yesterday, I'm having a really great time.  Tomorrow morning, we're heading back to mine in order to go to Ζōě's naming doo-hicky.  From there, I'm not sure what is going on - aside from the kids going back to Jo on Sunday morning!

Busy busy busy.

Demonic Creature

The more astute of you out there will recall a post I slapped up a while back, involving the most satanic of critters.

Now, as luck would have it, one of the demonic beasts has been re-homed already. However, the other one is still sad and lonely. Now, my suggestions of having it blended into a health shake, or made into a large sausage skin have fallen on deaf ears, so apparently the creature must be rehomed, and alive.

Now again, I have NO idea what or how much they want for this thing, but they have sent over *shudder* pictures.

Blergh. Anyway, I believe this is what I referred to as "Snake #2" before, 10ft Albino Burmese Python, with a tank but no stand. At least, I assume as much.

If you're interested, want to know more, or generally want such a horrific critter, then you can contact Den. I have no idea about the gory details.

Now if you will excuse me, I have to dry the clamminess from my hands and have a glass of water before I'm sick.