So, I’ll admit it. I miss you mom. Yea sorta, something like that. Ye know, the way you clean up after me and my sister so the water bottles magically disappear into the recycling bin in the morning, and there’s food in the fridge when I come home.

Well, it’s only been two weeks.

Past all the cleaning (up after my sister) There’s something else I learned, beside the terrible dawning that I’m becoming like my mother. Lord the curse for all girls. Today I sat and told myself I would start preparing dinner at half past 4. Get a head start because I probably don’t know what the hell I’m doing. And I don’t. But it’s always fun to sprinkle a little bit of everything – with enough time to rummage through all the cabinets, make little discoveries and feel a bit snappy. They’re edible so I’m not complaining. But since my social suicide yesterday by falling asleep at 9 pm on a friday pro-d day – knitting – I’ve got to spend some personal time at home and realized how my cat beats me by a mile getting everything out of his life.

Now, sometimes I do feel sorry for my baby who is basically looking forward to a life of confinement inside a home. No I’m not horrible, my friends cat got run over, so maybe a bit paranoid, but you’re staying in. Plus you sleep on my bed, and I don’t enjoy dead birds of any kind. But whilst I stayed home and worked on my little project of knitting myself a circle scarf (applause for breaking the stereotypes that metal heads can’t knit), which my cat has no qualms in continuously attempting to rip apart, much as I chastise him for it. Damn the kitty just goes after it.

So is there perhaps a lacking of perseverance or attention-span (compared to a cat)  or plain laziness that we, oh so sophisticated humans do not go after all those little loopholes, chase after that darnest dangling end, constantly taunting you and unravel that large ball of yarn, ( even if you make a fool of yourself in the process, like when the mastermind – moi – or in the worldly sense, the universe starts playing double with you ) Be stubborn and strewn it across the floor and call it a life well lived. Or for him, a day well spent. Now I could apply this knowledge in a variety of ways to myself. Like not being such a junkie and thanking the faeries that I have a high metabolism (If you get to read this Evan Sanders, your post really got to me – I feel quite guilty.) But I’ll just start with finishing that scarf. So let’s start with you first.

And this thought entered my mind when I finally got to starting my dinner at 7:30 pm, when I was hungry. Now my dinner is cooked, resting on the kitchen island, and I’m loaded on those ‘healthy’ popper chips and hot chocolate. At least I’m set for tomorrow.

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Does nobody else see the turkey in him? Might I coax him into being soup one day – Casually lounging about on my dining table, right in the center of the table cloth. Really, right when I was cooking dinner.