I can’t get the cover on! Damn it, get it on, get in on!
My easychair’s cover, that is. I popped it in the wash and spent 20 mins after it dried trying to remove the fur that didn’t get washed off. Now I can’t put the sponge back. Sunshine’s going to nail me.
I realise everytime I have a major cleanup, I get some unknown injuries. The last time, when I scrubbed the floor, my knuckle went sore and raw. Now, I have a small cut on my hand. The funny thing is that I never remember how and when I got them and I’m probably poisoned heavily by bleach because of this.
Damn sian loh. So I’m half done and irritated and tired (because I got home at 5 plus am last night and woke at 9am when my neighbour’s dogs barked and barked and barked) and cannot sleep and don’t know where to put my stuff so that my cats don’t destroy them before I finish my springcleaning tomorrow and…
I can go on and on. Damn.
The weather’s cool and I can think of a million things to do at home instead of going out but all of them are better if there’s a certain someone to snuggle with… like watching DVDs.
update: right after I finish for the day (just halfway la) and start clearing the trash after my bath, as I open the door slightly, kiwi runs out and as I was too stunned to react, by the time I reached the 1st floor (in my big tee and underwear, and nothing else: I wasn’t expecting to go out!) she had run into my neighbour’s unlighted garden. I strain my eyes to see those patches of white on her feet and mouth and chest on her otherwise totally black body, and trying to hear her little squeak-yelps. I ring the bell, there is no answer. I knock, running from the front door to the garden and back to the front door, feeling totally naked, hoping nothing suddenly scares kiwi and makes her run and hence having to search for her around the estate in my nakedness. Finally the living room light comes on and a young man comes out to my sheepish explanation. He opens the garden gate for me and I dash in, picking her up and running away from the apartment, apologising as I flee.
update (2): right after I pick kiwi up and reach my apartment (I grounded her in my brother’s room with Alex, the one that she’s afraid of), I realise that I have a growth (pimple? bite) on the tip of my lips. The numbness around it is spreading a tat, and the paranoia in me is back. The feeling of the thing is familar yet unfamiliar, both at the same time, and I hate it. To make things worse, my left chest have been giving slight aches over the days and just now, and once one is triggered I start convincing myself I will not make it through the night. Sheesh, I should have just paid for someone to come clean the house.