Three Cruel Ironies (or The Sublime to The Ridicupiss)

1) The very early signs of pregnancy are remarkably like bad PMS. I get bad PMS. I suspect I shall be blogging about trying (and failing) for a baby sometime soon. Nuff said for now.

2) My Big Grey Cat Merlin is dying of cancer and chronic kidney failure. He's responding well to treatment (and to coaxing with expensive foods), however, so he's not suffering yet. We've probably got weeks, maybe months, and I've gone from wishing he'd died suddenly to being incredibly grateful for every moment we still have. But this does mean that we have an obsessive interest in his toilet habits at the moment - every pee is a small triumph.

Today, he peed in my work shoes.

And as the now cold cat's urine soaked into my unsuspecting sock, I was troubled by mixed emotions. On the one hand - "hooray, his kidneys are still working!" on the other hand, "these are my only decent work shoes!"* And a healthy dose of, "ewwwwwww!"

3) The prospect of having to lose weight by cutting down on what I eat is depressing. The only decent cure for depression is a chocolate croissant.

* I suffer from shoe poverty. I love shoes, I would like to own many pairs of beautiful shoes. But a combination of aggressive sensible-ness and 'those are too fashionable for me' inferiority complexes sabotages any attempt to add to my meagre collection.** I have two pairs of work shoes. Only one are really comfortable. On twelve hour days this MATTERS.

** I have decided that strong-willed friends and alcohol are probably necessary to aid me in my endeavours to own more cute footwear.