Today when walking BB on our circular route that takes us through a park and past a couple of charity shops a bread bin in a window of one caught my eye. Now, I’ve been hankering after a bread bin for quite a few months as my husband is a complete bread/toast fiend. At any given time we can have 2 if not 3 loaves in the house, plus crumpets and wraps.
I bravely (well it felt very brave in this current climate) poked my head in and asked how much. 2 minutes later, I have a bread bin for a fiver, which is a complete bargain. It completely dominates my tiny kitchen, but I can’t even begin to tell you how much joy someones throw away tat brings me. No longer do I have to stare at loaves of bread placed a round the kitchen and I’m hoping it cuts down on the hansel and gretel trail of crumbs.
Also in this charity shop, there were loads of old teddies, with worn fur, obviously very well loved at some point in their lives. I wondered if at one point they were someones comforter, like my Mr Ted who still sleeps on the bed (hubster calls him creepy Ted, but he’s part of the deal when he moved in).
My thoughts wandered, thinking of different peoples comforters, the stereotypical bears, the blankets to the more bizarre ones like my sisters-an argos catalogue that she used to take to bed each night.
As my mind wandered, I thought about adult comforters. Mine for certain was alcohol. It was without a doubt my security blanket. Feel rubbish about your day? Have a drink! Been dumped? Have a drink! Bad date? Better drink to get through this! Bad head? Hair of the dog! Tough day with the kids? Nearly wine o’clock!
Each time I tried to soothe myself with my comforter, what I was actually doing was dragging myself down. My warm, cosy, cocoon of alcohol fuzz was actually dulling my senses, causing anxiety, affecting my relationships and how I parented.
I’m so glad I’ve thrown this bit of that away and hope I never have to use this “comforter” again.
In other news we’re having a few teething issues with Dexter. He is the most gorgeous, loving cat and fitting in with the kids brilliantly. Unfortunately, however he’s not cleaning his bottom when he goes to the toilet and leaving little poo presents around the house. Which is turning out to be a nightmare with a crawling baby. I’ve ended up having to change our bed at 11pm last night when we found some poo and have had to clean an area of carpet and a bit of the sofa. Luckily BB hasnt come into contact with it and hopefully never will. We’ve taken him to the vets to see if it’s a medical issue and they think it’s stress.
So we are changing his litter, getting a plug in de-stressor and putting old sheets over beds and sofas for the time being. We’re also wiping his bum after he goes to try and help him. He has injections due with the sanctuary vet Tuesday so we will review it then. I’m completely besotted with him so I’m hoping all these changes will work.
Has anyone else known this with cats? If so any advice on how to get him to clean himself?
Wow long post today.