What I Hated the Least Today 29/365: Emergency


This is about the cat. Again. But I swear it’s a cat story the like of which you never heard before.

My cat woke me up, as usual, at an ungodly (and unmanly) early hour of the morning, when she was amusing herself by chewing the blinds. I’m not at my finest when disturbed from sleep, so I was considering throwing a box of tissues in direction of the aggressor, but then I refrained from throwing something I might need later for myself. I just clapped my hands (the signal for the cat to stop, which I perform at any waking or sleeping state reflexively like Pavlov’s drooling dogs), and the cat, momentarily dissuaded, moved with audible snort of disgust to the other window.

The story starts here. Before I managed to tuck myself in again, the cat started to meow in the extremes of distress. My maternal (caternal) instincts made me instantly wide awake, and I jumped out of the bed quite athletically to check the kitty. Increasingly alarmed, I observed her curled up and choking violently. Has she chewed off and swallowed a piece of the blinds? She didn’t proceed to throw up, but instead slided from the window sill to the floor on three legs only. I was horrified. What’s happened to her paw? And then I saw she had her paw in her mouth, stuck inside by her nail.

Wondering if my cat was suicidal, I attempted to release her. To say that she didn’t cooperate is an understatement. After several failed attempts, I called nine one one (the cat version of it) on one line and suicide line on the other line. I assured the cat emergency that I wasn’t joking (the call girl, I mean the girl staff member, clearly doubted the credibility of my story), and I was advised to go on trying and call back. To cut the story short (while my agony was much longer), I did manage the free the dumb cat from herself. Seconds later she meowed at me in a friendly manner and went on to crunch some dry food.

The cat survived intact, but I was badly shaken. Also, the cat nearly killed me in the process of killing herself, as I later discovered a long slash across my thigh incurred in the struggle. She had a near miss of my artery. I’ll need more Diazepam and a spare cat in case the current one commits suicide by gutting herself.

Literary Lion: Pool

Literary Lion: Pool

In response to Laura Feasey’s Literary Lion challenge: Pool.

The old man didn’t like doing that. But someone had to. It had been raining and the old corroded tub in the backyard was half-filled with dirty water. That would do. It was about time too. They were already starting to crawl, squealing like rats as they were stumbling and falling on their faces. Silly little things. He picked the nearest one and carried it to the tub. It shrank to half its size when immersed. Just like a wet rat. Two more to go. He really hoped that the cat wouldn’t have any more this season. One was enough.


What I Hated the Least Today 28/365: Shortcut


The more I sleep, the more exhausted I feel. However, I’ve run out of food and I figured it wouldn’t boost my stamina to die of starvation. So, while yesterday I was high on Ibuprofen, today I administered Speed 8 (not the speed, but the ultimate legal mind and body stimulant) and unenthusiastically ventured out to get groceries.

I took a shortcut. Two, actually, if jaywalking also counts. (I’ve been very adventurous today, you see.) As some people would call it, I’m asking to be raped (or even worse, robbed) because I took the road less travelled. So little travelled, in fact, that you never meet anyone there.

I only met someone once in the shortcut. It was a group of young males, the prospect of which horrified me because I happened to be carrying home my new smartphone at that occasion. I was only partially relieved when the men approaching turned out to be Franciscan monks. My fears proved insubstantial, as they didn’t try to convert me.

Today I met no one in the shortcut, but I was met with loads of mud. This I anticipated, but I’d rather wade through mud than walk a bit farther than absolutely necessary. I was silly though to have taken Speed 8. I should’ve got me some Redbull, which gives you wings, so I could fly over the muddy stretch—or from door to door and back, for that matter.

This reminds me I have a broom at the terrace. I use it for snow shovelling for lack of better tools. Perhaps the broom could be converted into a flying machine even without the use of Redbull. After all, a cat I already have, so I’m half-witch. But I got taken away. Besides mud, I have nothing to report really. I know, right, what a disappointing story.


What I Hated the Least Today 27/365: Ibuprofen


I woke up, made coffee, smoked, practised my yoga routine, smoked, blogged, smoked, cooked lunch, ate it and smoked. I live a dream. Except while cooking, I got a nasty headache.

I was cooking fish, so maybe it was the ghost of the fish cooked that came to plague me. Maybe the fish cooked was a single mother and now her baby fish is floating bellies up in the ocean because their parent was hooked, deep frozen and cooked. Wouldn’t this image give you a headache too?

The fact that the lunch was barely edible didn’t relieve my pain either. Cooking is not on the short list of things that I hate the least. Since home cuisine as a cure did nothing for me, I popped two Ibuprofen 400 painkillers and went to bed, where I was growling for a while and then slept through the whole day.

Now I’m quite fine again, thanks to Ibuprofen, for which I composed a thank-you ode.

O Ibuprofen 400

I love it

When I’m low

You give me back

What I lack

My healthy glow


What I Hated the Least Today 25/365: Vet


I’ve been to the vet. I mean, I’ve been to the vet with the cat. The cat was far less inconvenienced by our trip than I was. She retained her carefully cultivated phlegmatic attitude all the while when I was checking hysterically if she was getting hysterical yet.

The cat bore the poking and probing with a stiff dignity which I should feel inspired to assume at my next check at the gynecologist (where I will go without the cat).

I paid the vet with my rent money and in return received a tip for cat vitamins and an informed opinion that the cat wouldn’t die of it. Whether she won’t die of her eye problem or of the vitamin prescription remains unclear. I suppose it’s an irrelevant distinction, as long as she doesn’t die.

I liked the vet though. He’s a new guy, but he looked familiar, and I couldn’t quite remember why. Then it dawned on me. He looked just like my general practitioner. I wonder if I should be worried about the cat’s health or my own.


What I Hated the Least Today 23/365: Shovelling

I’m currently an unemployed PhD holder independent researcher, and I’ve been working hard on my new career today. I’ve been shovelling snow.

My major motive for shovelling the terrace was the visit of my mother. My mother isn’t a shovelling freak, but I couldn’t think of an excuse for explaining what business I have on the terrace in this weather. She would know that I go to the terrace because there were my tracks in the snow. I go there to smoke. Why, yes, I’m over thirty and my mother still doesn’t know I smoke. Why upset her, right?

My minor motive for shovelling was to create a dignified smoking environment. No more squatting out there in the snowdrifts and having the white sh*t drench my slippers. I can’t be bothered changing into proper boots for each smoking trip.

I shovelled a lovely snow-free aisle alongside the window, with a narrow outreach to the railings at one end, so that I could explain to the mother that I take photos at the terrace while resting my camera on the railings. Disappointingly, the mother neither asked nor did she notice my efforts.

She probably didn’t notice because the moment I was done shovelling, it started to snow. It continued throughout the rest of the day. It’s still snowing. I make regular rounds of the terrace to re-shovel. I’ve made snow walls of considerable height surrounding my cleared aisle. It looks like I’m preparing trenches for the next world war.

On a happier note, I believe I’ve grown muscles with all that shovelling. I can now consider taking up an alternative career as a cleaner with a specialisation in shovelling. Or a bouncer in a bar. Or a snowman, or snowwoman, complete with a snowcat. By the way, below is a picture of what my cat thinks of the snow.



What I Hated the Least Today 21/365: Dead?


I knew something was radically wrong the moment I woke up. I could feel nothing. More precisely, I could feel no pain. No headache, no pain in the back, no pricking in the shoulder (not even a hangover). Am I dead and is this hell? It’s a bit colder than I expected, dear Satan, would you mind turning the heat up? However, the cat is here too, so hell can’t be as bad as publicity suggests. (Also, I told you so, I tell my cat because I threatened that she wouldn’t go to cat heaven if she doesn’t stop chewing my flat deposit represented by the blinds.)

Maybe it’s not hell and maybe I turned zombie in the night. It wouldn’t be surprising, given that my building is situated next to a mortuary (and next to a hospital, which outsources to the mortuary). Then I recalled my yoga practice the previous day, which included the zombie pose (kneel down, stretch out the arms, let the hands hang down – undead face optional). Maybe I zened myself out during the practice and now I’m hallucinating. Or maybe I’m writing this in my sleep.


What I Hated the Least Today 20/365: Wine!


I’ve been sober for so long that if I attended Alcoholics Anonymous, I’d surely earn some sobriety badge. My tea-totalling (coffee-totalling) stint didn’t spring from asceticism or masochism, but from a regrettable incident in which my corkscrew broke. It split into two when I was using it to open a bottle of wine, which is shocking, because the corkscrew was clearly a fashionable decorative item and wasn’t intended to be used.

This happy day, though, I received a package from the shop where I bought the poor late corkscrew (RIP) and where I complained of the poor quality of their products and threatened to sue for psychological trauma (no, I didn’t), and the package contained a new corkscrew. What a delight! I purchased a bottle of wine for meal tickets (I didn’t, but poetic licence) and tested the new arrival. It worked.

I spent the evening sipping a lovely glass of pink wine which cost more than it should but was totally worth it. I went to bed almost happy (I’m never happy, but it was a near miss), and I dreamt that I killed two people. (I hope I dreamt it.) One with a hammer, another with a sword (!). I wasn’t much upset about the atrocity of the crimes as rather about my lack of ideas where to dump the bodies. I shouldn’t drink before bed. That, or I shouldn’t watch crime series.


What I Hated the Least Today 19/365: Outing


I’ve been out today. I’m always out, as in not in, unfashionable and living under a rock. I actually physically ventured out today though. I never go out willingly, only under the threat of force and/or starvation. I don’t assume I’d even notice if I were put under house arrest, and if I noticed, I’d likely be delighted.

I went for an outing today to run some errands and purchase food stock to live on for another week without having to leave the flat. On the way, I witnessed an assortment of curiosities. I imagine the curiosities were perfectly normal, but I’m easily entertained. I saw:

  • A shutdown pub whose windows alternated stickers Just open and Closed down. I shot my reflection in one of the windows, hence the featured image of this post.
  • A ten-year-old male kid smoking an electronic cigarette. What a dumbass, if you excuse me (and even if you don’t, I’m afraid I must insist).
  • A mother pushing a pram of poisonous green colour and wearing yoga trousers of the same poisonous green. Unfortunately, the trousers were a size smaller than the woman and her baby was too young to tell her that she doesn’t quite rock the outfit.
  • Two black cats, which ran away, frightened out of their fur, when I approached them waving my arms hysterically and crying awwweeee. I don’t blame them.
  • A hole punched in the door of a psychiatric clinic. I don’t blame the patients either. I was tempted to re-punch the door in the hole as I was waiting for my appointment.

What I Hated the Least Today 18/365: Nightmares


I have nightmares on the regular, but I’ve grown used to it and it certainly doesn’t detain me from sleeping as much as I can. Today I had a particularly colourful and hilarious nightmare.

I was sleeping, but I dreamt that I was woken up by some noise. The noise turned out to be the sound of rubbish bags piled on my shoe rack (ready to be taken out when the decision is ripe), now in the process of tumbling down because the cat tossed them over. While I do have a cat, my cat doesn’t climb furniture and knock down rubbish. I immediately got suspicious. It appeared that my cat was sleeping peacefully on the window sill, and another cat was tampering with my rubbish. But how did the other cat get in here?

I fully woke up (while sleeping) and explored. There was indeed an extra calico cat in the flat (my cat is a tabby, and I dreamt a calico cat because I’ve been to a cat cafe the day before and cuddled a calico cat called Masha). There was also an extra hole in the entrance door, through which the calico got in. I was furious because nothing enrages me as much as damage on property (I don’t know why I care, the flat is rented and hence not my property).

I shot out of the door in my red nightie (in fact I was sleeping in my black nightgown), barefooted and with no glasses (that was rather shortsighted of me because I’m shortsighted). I ran downstairs and found a big black charred hole there. There were some construction workers (when I woke up in fact, someone in the house was drilling so vehemently that the floor was vibrating), whom I asked what had happened. You’ve been struck by lightning, one worker said. I was struck. But I thought it fortunate that I had my legs freshly shaved so that I was at least moderately presentable.

For reasons unexplained in the dream, I had to walk round the block (still wearing the red nightie and no shoes) to get back to my flat, which seemed to be suspended in mid-air over the burnt-down site of the house. At my door there was a medium sized brown bear trying to eat my dumb cat, who was fighting back. In rage, I threw myself at the bear with my bare hands, kicked its ass and saved the cat and the day.

I drove the intruding calico cat out of my flat and it disappeared at the neighbour’s, whose corridor looked like a chinatown alley (I dreamt this because I wanted to eat Asian noodles for dinner but didn’t have any). I found that my flat door didn’t lock, so I barricaded it from the inside with one of the two taburet stools which I don’t own.

As I was about to collapse in tears and was deciding on whom to call to cry on the phone (I don’t have anyone to call), I woke up for real. There were no extra cats, bears or holes. Just an overactive neighbour drilling holes in his property. How boring.