The start of a new week and according to the weather forecast it is going to be one crazy time. Storms, gales, rain and then a heatwave later in the week. Yes, only the UK could conjure up such incomprehensible conditions as these. Hard to believe that it is officially summer. I had ambitions of suntan lotion, basking in the sun with a cheeky cocktail and a couple of chapters of Madame Bovary but looks like I might have to wait just a little longer before the threat of rain has subsided. Oh well. I can always put cat litter in the sugar jar.
TuesdayBeard Face and Frizzy Hair were out for most of the day doing some shopping. The frizz was anxiously searching for a father's day gift while the beard decided he wanted to add to his summer collection of flip flops and very tacky t-shirts. If you dare to open the wardrobe with the summer attire there is a chance that you might be blinded by the multitude of bright colours and crazy patterns on offer. A pair of goggles is deemed essential before attempting this in case my warnings haven't put you off.
WednesdayBeard Face has been using a step counter recently and decided to try it out when he went for a run. He was estimating that the total amount would be something like 10,000-15,000 steps. This was based on a series of very complicated calculations involving a turnip, a rubber duck and an old copy of Bram Stoker's Dracula. How these three items were related is something I am yet to discover. All I can say is that nothing really surprises me with my nitwit of an owner these days.
Beard Face's target of 10,000 steps is actually considered a good amount for the average healthy person to be aiming for each day. How we're all supposed to find the time to achieve such numbers is something of a mystery though. When he came home the total on the counter was actually 376,394,409,999,147,493,594,765,356,084,387,111,043,563,394.9999999999 steps. Given that he was gone for about half an hour I have a sneaking suspicion that there may be something wrong with the step counter.
ThursdayBeard Face has taken his obsession with Skyrim to a completely new level. While doing his writing he's been listening to the Skyrim soundtrack which clocks in at 3+ hours and is a pleasant listen, if I'm being honest. However, what I don't appreciate is my dimwit of an owner's random and spontaneous outbursts. He's been coming out with gems like, "I'm a Nord and Skyrim belongs to my people," "I used to be an ordinary Nord till my chief took an arrow to the knee" and "Oh f*%k, it's a dragon." I'm not sure such an expletive featured in the original game but the sentiment was there so you can't really grumble at the beard's devotion. Sometimes you just have to accept that my owner is one sick and disturbed individual.
FridayA truly challenging day today. Watching the tennis, Buggles turned to me and said, "If this is called the French Open when the tennis is going on, does that mean it's called the French Closed when no tennis is being played?" He built on this observation by asking if the Australian Open and US Open were both defined as "Closed" while the French Open was taking place. No mention of Wimbledon. At least I don't think there was. I left the room very quickly. It was either that or murder Buggles.
SaturdayIn honour of Beard Face's birthday tomorrow I decided to go hunting. Caught a mouse but ate it. I then caught a bird but Razz ate it. I soon caught a dog but Buggles released it. I managed to capture a rabbit but Charlie shot it with his slingshot. My successful claiming of a frog and later a hedgehog were equally disastrous with Bilbo cuddling the frog into submission while the hedgehog fled just 3 seconds into Frodo's rendition of Bright Eyes. In the end I had to settle on an empty chocolate wrapper for the old boy. I hope he likes it.
SundayBeard Face's birthday went very well...for us anyway. To be fair, we didn't wake him at the crack of dawn as we do most days. Frizzy Hair spoiled the old boy with dollops of ice cream, chocolate, cakes, you name it, he refused to share it and scoffed the lot. Fat pig. I gathered the other cats together and led a daring assault on beardy's stash late at night. We had to disable the alarm though which proved not remotely difficult. The combination was "1234." Genius. Tomorrow the beard will awake to find the ice cream is gone, along with half of the cake and even that bag of chocolates shaped like Meryl Streep in The River Wild.
