Down the Drain

I thought my disaster days were over.

Today I started to cook lunch with the best of intentions. While something was heating in the oven, I had a clear-up in the kitchen. I took some dirty dishes to the sink, but the sink was already full. With the old dishwasher, I got into the habit of soaking everything before washing it.

So, I had to put the soaked contents of the sink in the dishwasher. Only problem was, the dishwasher had clean dishes in it from the last time. So the first task was to put these dishes away. I use a Pyrex  measuring jug to make my porridge each day, so got two of these jugs out of the dishwasher to put into the cupboard. Then, disaster struck. I must have misjudged the distance to the shelf, and one of the bowls fell onto the ground and immediately shattered into 1000 pieces. All over the floor, things that had been left on the floor, the cats’ food bowls, the works. i’m shrieking at all this.

No reaction from wife, who is next door in the lounge.

So, I’m left to clear everything. Fortunately I remembered where the dustpan and brush were – the hoover clogs in 2 seconds flat, so started brushing the floor. It probably took about fifteen minutes, I had to do it sitting on a stool, moving the stool around. It was difficult to stop my dodgy leg from messing up the pile of glass I’d just swept and was trying to manoeuvre into the dustpan. I had to control the dustpan with my feet, because of course I only have one hand available.

Everything which had been in contact with the glass had to be cleaned, so all the cats’ things went into the sink. Well, except the sink was still full.

You can imagine how fatigued I was, doing all this. (And while sorting it, the oven had long beeped to tell me that lunch was prepared.) I’m doing my  est not to lose my temper. It finally gave way when I’m trying to access the taps to re-fill the sink, except I can’t because somebody (might even have been me) had left some pans on the draining board to block my way. The pans were hurled across the kitchen. One of them then broke a couple of gin glasses belonging to my wife, but by them I didn’t give a shit. More work, collateral damage. I gave up on the idea of lunch, for the moment at least.

I finally had some lunch after probably an hour or so. Cold. Shit. The trouble is, the injections I take require me to eat something. At least I’d calmed down.

In the middle of all this, I’m raging at how useless my wife was, I could have really used some help, and she is responding in kind, thinking I broke her glasses deliberately. Once everything was calm, I had to order two replacement glasses, plus of course a replacement Pyrex jug. What a brilliant way to spend my disability benefit, and to spend an afternoon overall.

That she didn’t give a shit, left me to clear it all up on my own, was disappointing. That we will now not speak for the rest of the week even moreso.

Honoured

We feel honoured. One of the cats has taken to leaving us little rodent presents. He’s always been a hunter, but he’s now taken to leaving them in the porch, just the other side of the cat-flap.

The weird thing is, they’re left with a garnish, a few leaves or a bit of grass. I mean, we know he leaves the rodents for us, but does he see the vegetables we eat for supper and think “they’re a funny lot, these humans, eating this green stuff”? Does anyone else find this? Our’s can leave us anything from maybe two or three rodents per day, to a rodent every two or three days, and maybe 50% of the time, they come with garnish, so I don’t think it’s accidental.