Well of course it's worrying.

I have the house to myself for the next 3 days.

I must remember to do a myriad of important things. First and foremost, play doctors and nurse (and vets?) with the cat. She will not eat of her own accord neither will she drink so the only solution is to shove cat medicine down her throat and occasionaly make up a soup of greybrown cat sludge and force feed her that as well. She hates me, I can see it in her eyes.

Also, the fish need feeding. But they don't need it forcing down thier throats. Do fish even have throats? Well that interesting.

Ummm, it's raining, so my amazing gardening has ground (lol, gettit) to a halt. So I shall have to continue discovering potatoes all along the back fence and jumping up and down in the garden waste bin tomorrow. Also, you can't mow wet grass - which I discovered after overloading the motor and having it cut out on me.

What on earth am I supposed to do now? I feel like an elderly retired person with only her moody cat for company. Although if I ever turn into one of those old people who actually make lengthy conversation about the fact that Bungay bus shelter now has perspex sides I will have to do the world a favour and jump off a very tall building, because honest to God I could have screamed after listening to those 3 old Bungalites going on and on and on about it. You'd think there were more interesting things in the world to talk about than perspex. Really.

I'm going to go cook for one now. And be spinsterish. For goodness sake somebody ring me.