I woke up with a certain red-headed cat doing hurdles over my head. Back and forth, stepping on my hair, belly rubbing my face. He’s hungry. I can ignore the jumping. The second wave starts. His feather stick brought close to my head and attacked, clawing my scalp when feathers and hair intertwine. I have to wake up. It’s not like I could use the squirt gun on my head.
As Olli starts his happy dance, success at waking me always makes him dance, Sparky tells me that our cleaning lady is coming at 10 am, not 1 pm. It’s 8:30. I was up from 2 until 6. I’m farging tired.
Shit. So much pre-cleaning, so little time.
Coffee is necessary. So is teeth brushing and yesterday’s eye make-up is a little more goth than I’m going for.
Ear acting up. Can hear my own breathing. Odd medical issue number 4538. Should clear up with Loki’s arrival.
Spill the coffee, spill the milk. Toothpaste stain on my boob.
Racing to pick up all the underwear laundry I’ve scattered throughout the house, it becomes reality that I can no longer bend over.
Make bed, dust, feed damn cats, pull out all required cleaning products, ignore coffee sitting on counter. Open windows and doors, clean up cat puke, start load of laundry, start dishwasher. All with my head tilted sideways so I don’t go postal from the sound of my own breath. Wait for cleaning lady who will never show.
Sparky called to find out if she got lost. Our place can be hard to find. Her number has been disconnected.
I don’t think she’s coming.
I have all the cleaning products out. I guess I could wet wipe the floors myself. Shit.