A simple glass of water

Only too well I know how distractible I am when my mood is not topnotch. To illustrate, let me tell you the saga of my attempt to get a glass of water to wash down my lunch of almonds and fresh fruit.

1. Into the kitchen I go. The devil kitty (Ms Moustiers Ste Marie, “don’t mess with me”, toothless, 21 years old and chief Demand-0-Cat) yowls for food; I fed her half a dish of chicken about 15 minutes ago.

2. Searching on the sink for the rinsed catfood spoon, I discover it has been left dirty, so I wash it.

3. I have to find a new container of catfood in the pantry.

4. Feed kitty.

5. Notice that last nights debris has not been sorted, parceled and sent bin-wards.

6. Wrap two lots of discards & recyclables.

Fantasy in the backyard

Fantasy in the backyard

7. Take rubbish to bins, which have been left in the drive from yesterdays garbage collection run (just rubbish & metal/glass/paper recyclables, not green recyclables).
8. Go into garage to dispose of green waste.

9. Of course I noticed while out the front that I had parked the car on a tiny sliver of garden hose sticking out from the garden bed. Must shift it.

10. Into the house, fetching the car keys & promptly yowled at by THAT cat again.

11. Move car- get out, lock it. Still parked it on another piece of hose.

12. Two more car moves, including out onto the street; at last nothing is caught under the wheels.

13. Re-inflate squashed hose by running high-power jet through it for 30 seconds.

14. Back inside, feed kitty again.

15. Get clean glass, fill with tap water.

16. Sit down again,



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