This morning the cat showed his affection towards me at 3:40 a.m. he shouted it as loud and clearly as he could in my ear. Oliver said good morning and he now wanted to be let out into the garden. Sparkling has said when I'm here this is my duty, whatever happens Oliver becomes my early morning responsibility. It's nice to know he loves me but I'd wish it was at a more appropriate time of day. It's both sleep deprivation and psychological warfare. The greatest strategists of war could learn a lot by studying their pets, I'm sure even a gold fish would have some interesting point to make.
It's the weekend so Sparkling has been working and I've been left with painting the kitchen. In a colour called Lemon Pie. I have never eaten a lemon pie before and it sounds a little sharp for my taste, but colour wise it is quite refreshing. Only thing is a second coat is needed and my feet are so cream crackered (nackered) I just don't have the energy to hit the DIY store, walk back and again start painting. Which is the thing with emulsion paint. One coat is never enough, the same with chocolates, or biscuits. There are things I could of done other than painting yet this seemed the best use of my time and I know Sparkles will be happy. Even happier when the second layer has been added.
At last the Olympics is coming to an end. The disasters of travelling in and around London have probably been averted by commuters themselves deciding to take this time off work and having extended holidays or better still working from the living room chair. I've heard it said commuter numbers are down by twenty percent. This seem about right, as I got on the tube I couldn't but notice there were actually free seats. This is unheard of on the Northern line at peak travelling time. No doubt central London businesses have suffered a blow from it all.
Sparkling allowed me to tag along to an engagement party she had been invited to, lucky me. But unfortunately I was given instructions to keep it low key. It simply meant I was not allowed to get myself either too drunk or to dance, even if I felt like it. At one point the rhythm nearly got me, as my legs tapped away to the beat of the music. I got to meet Sparkling's work associates. These were mostly young girls in their teens. They all seemed to love Sparkling and at least two of them said Sparkling was like their second mum. I saw her boss, a little man who I know had been obnoxious to Sparkling on occasion and refrained from talking to him about his behaviour. It would not of done much good and I'm sure at some time he will get his karma come back to him. It was good to put names to faces. I'll get to see them in my mind next time Sparkles talks about them. It was odd as I sat there, being half merry and enjoying the atmosphere how my internal voice kept yabbering away as though narrating a book. It seemed to flow so easily, I thought if only I could remember all of this stuff going on in my head and then write it down. Of course it doesn't work this way. It's either a matter of get it written or recorded or it's instantly forgotten. The eloquent thoughts have therefore flown away on the wings of a butterfly. Very gentle and very fragile.
It's just turned seven in the evening and Sparkles has still not turned up. I know the cat's biscuit tin is empty and will need some more, he can moan if there's no food left. Sparkling will likely want some food to eat. What I should do then is think of making food. Something light. Something Sparkling will like as well. Better go and find Oliver first though, wake him up tell him I love him in a loud cat way he'll appreciate. As they say karma is a bitch.
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