My Fat Cat & Wine Addiction

Well… here we are, just you and I and my severely overweight cat that won’t stop trying to sit on my keyboard. I’m honestly concerned that the sheer force of him will crush my keypad alone. I’m also very nervous about my wine glass that he keeps lightly tapping when he thinks I’m not looking.

How did I create such a large monster?

Anyways, because of all this self-isolation bullshit, I have spent way to much time inside and honestly if you could receive “achievements” on NetFlix like you can on video games I would have been crowned fucking champion by now.
Recently I have reached the point that one should never reach. I was on the couch in my trackies, having a good cry. So what was I crying over you ask?
Well, Joe Exotic obviously. 

That poor man, that poor, gay, gun-slinging red neck of a man.
He deserves better. So why am I so involved you ask? Why the tears, and Well, I have done nothing else with my life the past few months? It’s because of fucking Netflix.
After hitting rock bottom and stalking a few subreddits I decided enough was enough. I had a shower and decided to put NetFlix on lockdown for a few days. I can’t keep doing this, my brain will turn to literal jelly that could be served with freshly baked scones and a dollop of cream.

While mid-shower I hatched a plan. Shower ideas are almost better than toilet ones….. but toilet ideas are still my fav. So how the hell am I going to spend the next few days you ask? Well, I’m going to Marie Kondo the shit out of my life. 

Firstly, I’ll start off small, the bathroom will do.
Half-empty shampoo bottles ain’t shit to me.
Leftover wax strips? Who was I trying to kid?
Rusted razor blades? Binned. Old toothbrush? Gone.
Before I knew it I was done with the bathroom.
Finally, I’m ready for the big leagues, Because it’s fucking bedroom time.
Goodbye bra missing left underboob wire. See ya odd socks. Neon pink Supre shorts I haven’t worn since 06? Umm.. girl bye.
After less than an hour I was done. Finished.

Finito.

8 pm hits and instead of calling it and getting back on the NetFlix train I decided to hit the kitchen up. I’m not going to make my third cheese toasty instead I am going to hit up the kitchen for another reason, Vegemite, Butter and toast. I couldn’t stop now, I was hot shit at this stage. While cooking the best god-given thing on this earth, toast, I wondered to myself, “what next?” As the sound of the toast popping echoed through my mind it brought me joy and an idea. Naturally assumed I was having a stroke, but I was wrong, because for the 2nd time today, the toaster has burnt my god damn seeded rye. Who adjusted the fucking toaster?

“I’m gonna fuck this Kitchen up”

First off, The cutlery draws. One by one each draw fell victim to my wrath. I was the embodiment of Marie fucking Kondo herself.
Ciao you broken beater.
Fuck off random arse plate that magically appeared in my cupboard, Your freeloading days in my pantry are over, and why do I have a whole goddamn draw filled with loose napkins and single-use chopsticks? Am I that fucking predictable? *Sip wine while nudging my heavyweight champion of a cat away from me* 

Cupboard after cupboard, one broken handled drawer after another.
Not one single shitty object was surviving me. Not one.
With my eyes on the finish line, I sat down in front of the sole surviving cupboard. The “mug and glass” cupboard.
With both hands, I pull the doors open and sigh to myself “Let’s fucking do this.”
Chipped glass? Consider it ditched. Broken mug? Bye bitch. Uninspiring white coffee cup? You bring no joy to my goddamn life.
I was two-handing this one. I was sorting and shuffling like there was no tomorrow.

Just as I was about to reach the wine glass level I had to stop, dead in my tracks. My hands unloaded the Kmart trash while my eyes settled on the olde faithful, My go-to, my….  my favourite wine glass.
We all say we don’t have favourites but we are all lying.
Favourite movies, favourite snacks and favourite children. It’s all the same.
This glass has seen some shit.
Seven years, that is how long I have had this goddamn glass.
As I reached out for the glass, pivoting the front towards me. Slowly the engraving came into view, “What’s for dinner? EAT A BAG OF DICKS, I’m drinking”. This glass has stood the test of time. It has survived many breakups, pre-drinking and one to many crying sessions.
Not even my cat has attempted to knock this bitch over and I know why.

I know why it has survived. It’s survived because I cherished it. The humorous quote engraved on the front is simple yet passive in tone. How can you not want to take care of it?
So now I know how my parents felt when my younger brother was born. They had finally found the one. The one that wouldn’t be a let down like the others, the one that would bring humour and charm when needed the most. The one that wouldn’t disappoint them with their career choices. I mean what?
This glass ain’t just any glass, it’s part of my life and Marie Kondo can eat a bag of dicks if she has an opinion about that.