The World According To Me

Last night I actually went to the cinema! I hardly ever do this. In fact, the last time I went to the cinema was to see 'The Departed', last year. Crazy. Anywho, we saw 'Superbad' which was essentially 90 minutes of dick jokes, but it was light-hearted and I liked it a bit. Next week - 'Hairspray'. The evening was infinitely more enjoyable because not only was it Tight-Arse Tuesday at the cinema, but there were half price meals at the pub. I had a chicken parma as big as my head for $9.00. SWEET.


The animals are still settling in. Sort of. There is still a lot of hissing and snorting (snorting! I am serious. It's only Agnes who does this and it's hilarious) but no actual fighting as far as I have witnessed. It has now been a week and a half and I am still holding out that they will be able to cohabit in some sort of peace. One day.


I am re-entering the world of the gym tonight, FOR REALS. I have been saying this for such a long time but I actually purchased a pass a couple of weeks ago - twenty visits for the price of ten (there's a half-price theme running here) and I haven't yet actually made it. But I am going to tonight.

I have also been having anxious dreams lately about old school friends. People I haven't seen in real life for 9 years. I blame Facebook. And V's upcoming school reunion. Last night's nocturnal episode involved me attending a concert. As I was walking into the stadium I saw two guys who I used to be friends with back in the day, sitting on a bench. I walked up and introduced myself and one of them gave me a hug and said "You're pretty now!". That was the end of the dream. Tres fucked up.




*At the request of the lovely Jen.

We are now a house of six, with a LOT more furniture than I'd ever anticipated. This is good. The addition of a big bookcase and a carved chest and paintings on every possible wall-space amongst other items makes the house more homely, and my new housemate (hereinafter referred to as "V") has cooked beautiful meals whilst I have languished on the couch and I can foresee this being a very happy time indeed.

The only hiccup thus far is V's cat, Cecil. He is a big lopey 'intact' male, about a month younger than my Esme (so, about 10 months old) but twice her size. He reminds me of a teenage boy not yet grown into his body, he is all limbs and unsure of how to co-ordinate himself. There is a lot of tension between my girls and the Intruder. Much hissing and yowling and being backed into corners from all parties concerned and whilst there has been little actual scragging, the whole thing is not doing a lot of good for the nerves. Luckily any potential situations thus far have been diffused by Lucy 'the bouncer' intervening. She always has looked after her little mates and over the weekend came to the rescue several times. Cecil has quickly realised he is no match for the Really Big One and backs away.

I do hope they expedite the learning to be friends process but never having had boy animals before, I'm not sure how to help things along. I think Cecil requires a trip to the vet for him to be less 'intact' but of course, not being my pet, I can't decide this. V has proposed that Esme has man issues given the events of late and perhaps this is true also.

A friend is moving in to my house this weekend. She is a good friend, I like hanging out with her and we do hang out a lot together in any event. However, having not lived with anyone since the Pom days, I am a teensy bit apprehensive.

I quite enjoy living by myself. Hold on, that's an understatement. I LOVE living by myself. I love coming home after work and laying on the couch in my underpants watching Deal or No Deal. I enjoy getting up early in the morning and schlepping around in my noisy slippers (which say "You" on one and "Wish" on the other, in gold letters against hot pink velvet. Mmmm, sexeh), vacuuming at odd hours, singing along heartily to whichever tunes I feel like playing and spots of sporadic dancing* when I've got my MP3 player stuck in my ears. I sometimes refuse to wash dishes until I have run out of little spoons and I pile my ironing up on a spare armchair for months on end (which can actually be a good thing because when I actually get around to doing the ironing it's like discovering I have a whole new wardrobe).