Day 66
Cats smell.
Ok, a fairly odd way to start today’s diary entry but it’s been playing on my mind all day and I felt compelled to share it with you. I don’t mean that they have the ability to detect odours (which they obviously do) but that they emit an aroma.
The specific animal that spends its life figuring out ways to persecute me is a prime example.
Earlier today (and prior to thinking about any decorating) I managed to get the bathroom all to myself and, after removing an astonishing amount of baby paraphernalia, ran myself a hot bath and wallowed in it for half an hour, happily lying there listening to the rain against the window. Eventually I got out and dripped my way to the bedroom.
A musty, pungent smell greeted me.
My initial thought was that my bathing had not had the desired effect so I sniffed my armpits to make sure it wasn’t me. The bedclothes were still in disarray, as I hadn’t made it yet so I threw back the quilt to find the cat peering back at me.
It had obviously been outside in the rain as there was a large damp patch around it and all its fur was matted down.
The temperature in the bedroom was considerably higher than that of the rainy environment outside and the cat had found itself somewhere warm to dry off.
Steam was coming off the animal like mist rising from a swamp.
I’d found the source of the smell.
For a moment we stood there sizing each other up like a couple of gunfighters waiting for the other to make the first move.
The cat stood up, stretched itself, let out a satisfied meow, and ran past me down the stairs. I set off after it but found Surrogate Daughter before the cat.
She’d wandered into the hall to discover the reason for the commotion and found me stood there.
“What’s going on?”
Under normal circumstances this would be a perfectly normal question but one I found quite difficult to answer in that situation.
In my haste to catch the animal, I hadn’t taken the precaution of putting any clothes on before following the it.
Rather than trying to figure out a plausible excuse, I grabbed the nearest thing to cover my modesty and made a quick retreat to the bedroom whilst holding a Mothercare catalogue over my genitals.
I put some clothes on and stripped the bedding down but the smell of wet cat has remained in the room. When Mrs. Snowman has contributed a night of farting to it, I have a feeling the couch will begin to look very inviting.
None of the freerolls were entered today, as I was busy doing other things so my bankroll remains stuck to the floor. I really must make an effort tomorrow to get things going again but I’ll also have to juggle it with the decorating. One of them will have to wait…my money’s on the paintbrushes.
The cat made itself scarce until the mother-in-law returned from work and remained sat at her feet for the rest of the evening with a self-satisfied look on its face, knowing it was perfectly safe from any retribution while it was under her protection.
I re-made the bed with the freshly washed sheets before Mrs. Snowman came home but still had to explain the stain that has remained there.
Rather than trying to go through the entire episode I just apologized and told her I pissed myself before getting up.
Whichever way I look at it, both things don't put me in a very good light: accidentally exposing myself to an unsuspecting daughter or my wife believing I can’t control my bladder.
Starting bank: $0
Current bank: $0
Ok, a fairly odd way to start today’s diary entry but it’s been playing on my mind all day and I felt compelled to share it with you. I don’t mean that they have the ability to detect odours (which they obviously do) but that they emit an aroma.
The specific animal that spends its life figuring out ways to persecute me is a prime example.
Earlier today (and prior to thinking about any decorating) I managed to get the bathroom all to myself and, after removing an astonishing amount of baby paraphernalia, ran myself a hot bath and wallowed in it for half an hour, happily lying there listening to the rain against the window. Eventually I got out and dripped my way to the bedroom.
A musty, pungent smell greeted me.
My initial thought was that my bathing had not had the desired effect so I sniffed my armpits to make sure it wasn’t me. The bedclothes were still in disarray, as I hadn’t made it yet so I threw back the quilt to find the cat peering back at me.
It had obviously been outside in the rain as there was a large damp patch around it and all its fur was matted down.
The temperature in the bedroom was considerably higher than that of the rainy environment outside and the cat had found itself somewhere warm to dry off.
Steam was coming off the animal like mist rising from a swamp.
I’d found the source of the smell.
For a moment we stood there sizing each other up like a couple of gunfighters waiting for the other to make the first move.
The cat stood up, stretched itself, let out a satisfied meow, and ran past me down the stairs. I set off after it but found Surrogate Daughter before the cat.
She’d wandered into the hall to discover the reason for the commotion and found me stood there.
“What’s going on?”
Under normal circumstances this would be a perfectly normal question but one I found quite difficult to answer in that situation.
In my haste to catch the animal, I hadn’t taken the precaution of putting any clothes on before following the it.
Rather than trying to figure out a plausible excuse, I grabbed the nearest thing to cover my modesty and made a quick retreat to the bedroom whilst holding a Mothercare catalogue over my genitals.
I put some clothes on and stripped the bedding down but the smell of wet cat has remained in the room. When Mrs. Snowman has contributed a night of farting to it, I have a feeling the couch will begin to look very inviting.
None of the freerolls were entered today, as I was busy doing other things so my bankroll remains stuck to the floor. I really must make an effort tomorrow to get things going again but I’ll also have to juggle it with the decorating. One of them will have to wait…my money’s on the paintbrushes.
The cat made itself scarce until the mother-in-law returned from work and remained sat at her feet for the rest of the evening with a self-satisfied look on its face, knowing it was perfectly safe from any retribution while it was under her protection.
I re-made the bed with the freshly washed sheets before Mrs. Snowman came home but still had to explain the stain that has remained there.
Rather than trying to go through the entire episode I just apologized and told her I pissed myself before getting up.
Whichever way I look at it, both things don't put me in a very good light: accidentally exposing myself to an unsuspecting daughter or my wife believing I can’t control my bladder.
Starting bank: $0
Current bank: $0