I wish I could be as content as my cat. He is currently spread eagled on the bed - paws in the air - totally void of inhibitions and insecurities. I think it would take an overweight pigeon flying into the Velux window to induce any change to his demeanour; such is his level of relaxation. If I could bottle this, I would be an overnight sensation.
I meanwhile, am fretting about completing my blog, washing my hair, preparing pancake mix and making some semblance of a start on preparations for our evening meal in the two hours I have remaining before the school run.
Ideally and somewhat selfishly, I would also like to fit in some Internet research pertaining to holidays. Do you know Easter is only around six weeks away? These things take planning. My husband is my polar opposite in many ways. He is as laid back as I am uptight. His approach is to “see what happens”. Mine is to “make it happen.”
Ironically, the one thing holding me back on the holiday planning is our aforementioned cat, Mowzer. We’ve only had him since October. He is six months old and has yet to master using the cat flap. Mowzer currently views said cat flap as simply another doorway to the house and one, which also requires human intervention to facilitate his entry.
In terms of stress relief, Mowzer the cat is not delivering either, preferring to occupy a chair, the top of a radiator or a bed as opposed to my lap. I am viewed as a potential mate (yes, he has reached that age) at around 8.00 pm each evening, which technically, is my down time. Watching Masterchef, whilst a maturing Tomcat grips my wrist with his teeth, all the time attempting to do something unspeakable to my arm is not conducive to relaxation I find.
However, all this will change tomorrow, when Mowzer the cat makes his scheduled visit to the vets. My guilt is palpable. I won’t relax tonight and tomorrow night I will be wrestling with the guilt of playing God. No peace and all that…