This is really grim, but it also made me laugh a lot yesterday, even though I was feeling gharsly like parsley, so I am publishing it.
If you are of a queasy disposition I really do advise you to come back later when this post is safely archived away out of sight.
One of the things that happens when I have a migraine is that my sense of smell gets super, super sensitive. As such I avoid the kitchen like the plague and someone else has to cook/prep food and do other ‘smelly’ jobs, because otherwise I am quite undone.
Derek, our extremely eccentric and increasingly rotund cat, will not use the garden to evacuate her catty bowels in, even though she is now allowed outside whenever she pleases.
She is a very nervous visitor to the outside world, preferring dead calm, no sudden noises, and company at all times. As such I think she is just too nervous to have a truly relaxing bowel movement.
She goes inside in her litter tray.
As you can imagine, when I am in the midst of migraine nasal delicacy, clearing out a cat’s litter tray is not a desirable job. Last night, as Jason was out and Derek had used her tray, Tilly got the job of cleaning it out.
I was lying in the lounge under a wet flannel when she came galloping into the room in stitches. She said: ‘Mama! Mama! You must come and look at Derek’s pooh. It is SOOO epic that you will be disappointed if you don’t. It’s BRILLIANT!’
At that stage I didn’t care if it was in the shape of Blackpool Tower with bunting and fairy lights round it. I didn’t want to see it.
I said: ‘Describe it to me if you must.’ And waved feebly in a ‘bring me sooooup’ invalid gesture.
She galloped back to the tray.
Two minutes later she came in having cleaned it up, but having taken a picture with my camera beforehand.
She showed it to me.
Even in my weakened state I had to laugh.
It is the Fuck You of pooh.