One of my cats is called a Wee Furry Shite. When I went to lock up yesterday evening, a fair while after the pathetic ack-ack noises, I found him hiding under the bench whilst a Magpie told him exactly what it thought of him. I suspect whatever the words are for
bleeping Stripey Prick in Corvid came up a few times.
And Fluffy
twit tends to sweep her ginger duster into your face just when it's most inconvenient to do so. She's probably half MC, as she's got the ear tufts, ridiculous feathery arse, toe tufts and all (and the original ex neighbour who had and neglected her was an idiot who would pay out hundreds of pounds to a back yard breeder for a kitten when at the time, you could get two from the Cats Protection League for about forty quid). She's tiny, though. I usually tell her it's just as well she's pretty, because she's about as thick as a barn door.
Anyhow, it looks like another day spent in front of the computer waiting for work to come through. If I wasn't at the laptop, I'd get it in the neck if I didn't reply to something within about 2 minutes (has happened several times already). Suppose it's a relatively small price to pay for the salary, though. Just wish I actually had something to do.
Lads. Im finally facing the cheating partner later today, after a week apart. I feel sick.
He's a
twit and a fool and you're far better than him. Stay strong.