And I refuse to lie to people about insignificant crap like that.

Tuesday, January 16 #DesignerCatDisaster

The cat got out. No!

Which means I destroyed Kate’s dream of an early retirement, because the cat’s most likely being shagged by a feral nondesigner cat as I write this.

I only left the door ajar for a millisecond because I had to put the bin out, and next thing I knew, it bolted out of the house like Wolverine on speed. I tried to catch it, but try catching a horny cat.

All I could do was stand by and watch its beige designer cat ass disappear over the fence.

Noooooooo.

I tried calling it for ages, I even walked up and down the street looking for it for, like, an hour, but nothing.

So, when Kate got home I was like: “I’m totally sorry, but the cat got out, and I can’t find it anywhere, and I promise I tried.”

Kate: Oh no. Which one?

Me:…

Kate (shaking her head, tutting, because she knows I don’t know which is which):…

Me: I’m so sorry.

Kate: I’m sure it was an accident.

Me: I actually think the cat planned it.

Kate:…

Me: Not funny, I know. I’m really so, so sorry, Kate. It just got out.

Kate (taking a deep breath): Well, it can’t be helped now.

You know when people say: I’m not angry, I’m just disappointed.

That.

Kate says the cat will only come home once it’s been shagged. Natural instinct, apparently. So now only one cat will have designer kittens, and all the others will be cheap knockoffs.

Instead of Chanel, they’ll have to be called Shanel.

PS: I realize it’s actually not funny.

Wednesday, January 17 #OnwardsAndUpwards

I feel so bad about the designer cat debacle that I’ve decided I need to get a job ASAP and pay Kate back the money she lost.

In an ideal world, the designer cat could have had four designer kittens, and according to the internet, your average, squishy-faced Persian designer kitten costs £500, which means I owe Kate £2,000. Though it’s probably going to be more, because Kate’s probably not going to be able to sell the knockoff kittens. And then she’s going to have to feed them, too, because I’ve concluded that if she can’t find owners for them, she would never:

a)  give them away to Battersea or

b)  drown them.

So this is what I’m thinking:

Minimum wage for people under eighteen is £4.20 per hour (rip-off alert).

2,000 ÷ 4.20 = 476.19

So I’m going to have to work 476 hours to make up that money.

If I get a weekend job, let’s say for twelve hours, that would mean earning £50.40 per week.

2,000 ÷ 50.4 = 39.68

Conclusion: It’s going to take me just under forty weeks to pay back the money I owe Kate.

That’s almost a whole year. How depressing.

Thursday, January 18 #CurriculumVitae

I’ve done my CV, and it’s proper shit: