enjoy the silence

it's all quiet in the house of the pant.

so quiet in fact that no one would guess there was six cats and two male types living here with me. I rather like it. Everyone has buggered off an left me to it. This is what normal folks call me time. I guess it means that there is no urgent household chore to be done, the smell of cat butt isn't invading the atmosphere the telly isn't on and blasting out enough noise to melt the last of the neighbourhood brain waves.

oooo what to do then.

i have tea sitting in a mug on top of a glass coaster. i have managed to get my little lappy toppy thingy actually working. i have music blasting into my ears. the world could implode and im not sure i would actually notice right now. My bum is nestled into a rather furry office chair. i am poised like an over weight leppard about to strike its first meal, lethal , hungry , motivated. The possibilities are endless, the world is my oyster.

I have fucking writers block.

shit shit and double amounts of excrement. i have no idea what to do now im here. My tea is luke warm and milky and well not the best cup ever created. None of the music in my phone is inspiring me to do anything but headbutt my desk in frustration. The fleeting images that tickled my imagination have vanished.And i really really want a cigarette.

Bollocks double bollocks and arse. Fucking me time is making a mockery of me. maybe i should just stick to what normal people do and submerge myself in a bath for a hour, or read a book someone else wrote. i could watch a film, go for a walk. Ha who am i kidding this is me we are talking about. I cant concentrate enough to read a book and i would probably be asleep by the first chapter. i already had a bath, if i have any more i will turn into the size of a prune or a grape or tomato, well some kind of red faced burnt arsed vegetable anyway. As for going out not a chance. i dont go out unless there is a gun to my head or cake is involved. going out means people ( yuck humans ) guess i will just wander round the house wishing for inspiration and enjoy the silence while it lasts.

it never lasts for very long anyway.

treading water

It wasn't me who did the washing today, or scrapped the cat poo, fed the cats, got the boy ready for football, made the beds, or tidied the kitchen.it wasn't me, i wasn't there. i was too busy hanging on to the ledge of reality trying not to fall off it. I'm never here anymore, i dont remember conversations, i cant make plans. my house is not my own anymore. there is no quiet time, so i'm not there.
i am an illusion a very clever illusion that means no one notices. i am the stepford woman who inwardly screams as outwardly she puts on her normal face and prays the mask doesnt slip.
i am the woman who longs for what she never had and misses the things that never miss her. i am the one you dont hug, the one who you cant touch i am stone. feelings are a distant memory.
dont ask me what i want, don't ask my permission, dont inquire where things are. i dont know i was never here.

basket case

Today i went shopping . It wasn't a momentous occasion , i made it round Iceland without spending too much or buying anything that wasn't neatly written down. I didn't end up with Biro down my front from ticking frozen items from the shopping list. All of my elastic decided to stay where it was supposed to be. I defied gravity a thing that i'm sure the whole of uxbridge town center is mightily grateful for.
Then a thought struck me as i was wandering down the isles in Wilkinson wafting my basket from side to side to ward off old people, small people and just people in general.
I WONDER WHAT THE CONTENTS OF MY BASKET SAY ABOUT ME ?

People judge we all know that and the first person to pull the "I never judge " card can cheerfully knob off to church and check on their reserved pew in heaven.
so what does seven ambi pure smellies of various scents, plus two plug in thingys, a mountainous amount of tampax bucket size and cat treats say to the less than discerning eye ? I have a feeling that it pretty much screams single,has cats, no sex life, house smells.

I think i might be doomed three out of four of those are correct. well maybe not the house smells bit or the single bit. It just goes to show that what people have in their baskets and shopping trolleys doesn't  necessarily represent their lives, in my case it merely hints at the shit and acts as a wake up call.

ode to the english language

.So you don't blog for months and then that bus thing happens, two come along at once. Well don't blame me blame social media and a spare hour between televisual programming .I was just doing the social media version of curtain twitching, which is reading things that people you may have seen once twenty years ago have commented on. Oh my what an eye opener. The poor guy was so busy ranting all thoughts of actually stringing a sentence together vanished into the mists of this rant. The subject was bullying ,the school well known for this and a few other problems. I remember going to look round it years ago.two things struck me number one the kids didn't greet each other vocally they happy slapped each other instead and the parents were twelve year old drug users with more tattoos than brain cells.'strangely none of my children ever went near there. Who would want to go and be educated in a place that was run that a borstal with all the charm of an ikea showroom .
Any who the moral of this story is that you are either part of the it crowd or the innit crowd. Personally education and culture pretty much rule overall else with me, but if you can't string a sentence together while ranting in public do it verbally not on paper,email or the dreaded Facebook.
Also trying to type one fingered on a kindle while trying to appear like you have an education doesn't work. Neither does typing on a touch type phone in the middle of a mud covered football field while shivering and needing a wee.in either of these circumstances  punctuation is not your friend.

the year of the pant

So this is a first. I'm blogging from a kindle could end up a massive cluster fuck what with good old predictive text but we shall see.
So year of the pant . well after the end of last year when according to some I nearly died due to plumbing issues and leaking particles. Then the wonderful build a bear stuffing that lasted for over a month and now the scars of varying sizes this year has to be better don't you think .
So far most of the planning has been in my head. Most of the things that happen here the brain work if you will happen in my head . no one listens so I never plan out loud but I do plan. I want to decorate this year. The cats have done a real number on my walls. Its not so much pants palace more pants drug den thanks to the pasty and the hairy bear pulling the wall paper off the walls. So far I have repainted the downstairs loo. Oh in case you were wondering it did help. I shouted instructions and stood over it as it did what he was ordered.
Apart from that there are other things going round in my head. But as I am never on my own long enough to do anything I'm not sure how I will be able to get any other plans done. We will see but one way or the other year of the pant has begun slowly but it has begun.

the naming of the poo

as you will be aware at pants palace four cats reside. this means four different types of cat poo, four types of gut wrenching vomit producing smell. so in an effort to A, work out the culpret of said smell and B, to make the task of the grand scrap more amusing i named the individual poos.

!, the poots maneuver - made by the oldest and most diva like of the cats Putin.

2, the widgey squit - this is produced with the added vomit smell by the second cat widget.

3, the mondo teaser - looks like a malteaser  and given to us daily by the big furry gizmo.

4, the jinxster pasty - named this way because it rhymes with ginster but smells nothing like a pasty.


so yes we are a house of cat lovers and nicknamers and so even the poo's have their own identities .

enjoy your meals.

pants out.

things that fall apart when your ill

i have been ill for a week now. in and out of bed not being able to be comfortable anywhere for long periods of time, shivering or sweating aching popping painkillers like the world is about to end. i havent felt this ill in years.
so while i have been ill who do you think has looked after the house?
well for the first two days while i was in bed resident male spent the whole of the time watching 158 episodes of dragonball z in his dressing gown.
did he do any washing ?
Did he hoover at all?
did he tidy anything?
did he steam the kitchen floor?

did he fuck!!!!!

the carpets have more cat fur and bits of broken cat claw on them than it should be possible to have stuck to a carpet. the kitchen floor is a nasty minging mess. in fact by wednesday the fluffy one asked the teen to come over to cook his tea for him.

ok so admittedly he has washed some clothes now and hung most of them out. it is glaringly obvious that i am ill. we even ran out of cat food and loo roll at one point.
he did try to look up on the computer what i most likely had and managed to narrow it down to the following.

bone cancer
mrsa
norvo virus
meningitis
fibromyalgia
or maybe the flu

what little faith i have in him being able to do anything with out having the instructions spoon fed him first several times has now left.this is a human being for which the word initiative didnt just simpley pass him by. it ran screaming in the opposite direction .
i have a lot of things to do when im better i hope to god that is before we turn into an episode of horders,

pants out