It's my birthday on Thursday. I'll be 34 years old, which feels appropriate. It also feels like a good time to look at other numbers in my life. Here we go...
13 - The number of years I've been in therapy. Despite the fact that my parents' take up a good 80% of my therapy air time, my mom still saw fit to cut out an article for me last week about how bad it is to become dependent on your therapist. Woteva.
4 - The number of kilograms I am heavier than when I got married. Dammit. I used to be svelte. This year, I have become slovenly. And not in a slutty Madame of the House sort of way. I need to get my arse back into high gear.
0 - The number of glasses of wine I can now safely consume without a hangover. It's dismal. I used to be such a festive girl. Now I have two glasses of Chardonnay and I'm slurring. Three and I'm out cold. A regular Lindsay Lohan.
7 - The number of mad, awesome women I count as my close friends. I think it's an excellent number. Less would be depressing. More would be a crowd.
78 - The average number of work-related emails I get every day. Fuuuuck.
11 - The average number of times I say 'fuuuuck' every day.
31 - The number of lip glosses and products in that category that I own at any one time. Which is ridiculous, because 9 times out of 10, I use Cherry Labello.
3 - The number of pints of blood I would give to have more sleep at night.
23 - The number of regular followers of my blog. :)
Happy birthday dear Jooooo, happy birthday to you. XXX
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Damn you Aubrey
It's becoming a bit like Groundhog Day.
Aubrey is on the run. Yet again.
My husband and the kids were playing with him a few days back and they 'definitely put him back' and 'absolutely closed the cage'. If this is true, then Aubrey is indeed, rather legendary. He was able to use his teeny tiny little hamster paws to unhinge a shutting mechanism that my 4 year old can't manipulate. Either that, or he used the full weight of his brutish body to smash through the perspex side of the cage.
Or maybe they just left the cage open.
I know what you're thinking. You're thinking that we must be the crappest hamster parents. That we're neglectful and that Aubrey must be pretty desperate to make continued escape attempts.
But you'd be wrong.
Aubrey is much-loved. He gets Baby-Belle cheese treats and saucers of soya milk. He gets dried fruit and nuts and popcorn and Premium Hamster Chow. He gets love and free play and even trips to the garden.
And still, despite our very best efforts, he absconds. He seems to suffer from that not-so-uniquely human condition of believing that the grass is greener elsewhere. It might well be greener, but much like in life, it's also populated with all sorts of other hazards, in this case, hadedas and the neighbour's cat and a sprinkler system and the promise of summer thunderstorms.
Liam, who is 4, is not too bothered. He over-empathizes with needy people (a trait he inherited from his bleeding-heart mother), but he never formed much of a bond with the hamster. Ben (who is 2 in January) occasionally hoists himself onto a footstool, rattles the cage and says, 'Awww-bwwweee!!'
But that's it.
As for me, I developed a real affection for that rat variant - one that is quickly waning. I feel like he's using me for food and affection and that he takes me for granted. It's becoming a very unilateral relationship; a case of unrequited love; of biting the hand that feeds.
Maybe he's seeing someone else. The neighbour's cat (a real little slut). A rat from the Zoo across the road. Or maybe he's just an adventurer who needs the sun on his back and the wind in his fur.
Oh Aubrey. Come back little guy. There's no place like home.
Aubrey is on the run. Yet again.
My husband and the kids were playing with him a few days back and they 'definitely put him back' and 'absolutely closed the cage'. If this is true, then Aubrey is indeed, rather legendary. He was able to use his teeny tiny little hamster paws to unhinge a shutting mechanism that my 4 year old can't manipulate. Either that, or he used the full weight of his brutish body to smash through the perspex side of the cage.
Or maybe they just left the cage open.
I know what you're thinking. You're thinking that we must be the crappest hamster parents. That we're neglectful and that Aubrey must be pretty desperate to make continued escape attempts.
But you'd be wrong.
Aubrey is much-loved. He gets Baby-Belle cheese treats and saucers of soya milk. He gets dried fruit and nuts and popcorn and Premium Hamster Chow. He gets love and free play and even trips to the garden.
And still, despite our very best efforts, he absconds. He seems to suffer from that not-so-uniquely human condition of believing that the grass is greener elsewhere. It might well be greener, but much like in life, it's also populated with all sorts of other hazards, in this case, hadedas and the neighbour's cat and a sprinkler system and the promise of summer thunderstorms.
Liam, who is 4, is not too bothered. He over-empathizes with needy people (a trait he inherited from his bleeding-heart mother), but he never formed much of a bond with the hamster. Ben (who is 2 in January) occasionally hoists himself onto a footstool, rattles the cage and says, 'Awww-bwwweee!!'
But that's it.
As for me, I developed a real affection for that rat variant - one that is quickly waning. I feel like he's using me for food and affection and that he takes me for granted. It's becoming a very unilateral relationship; a case of unrequited love; of biting the hand that feeds.
Maybe he's seeing someone else. The neighbour's cat (a real little slut). A rat from the Zoo across the road. Or maybe he's just an adventurer who needs the sun on his back and the wind in his fur.
Oh Aubrey. Come back little guy. There's no place like home.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)