Catshit

Oh Jesus. Waiting for a guy to text back is like making a joke and then having to wait to find out if anyone laughed. The longer it goes on, the less texted he is to have funny the punchline. And then if he does funny you text, you still don't know if you're going to sleep with him. What a nightmare.

Speaking of nightmares, the cats in my Da's have been left relatively unattended over the past couple of weeks due to their not having gone to Australia for reasons decrepit and mange. This in itself is not a nightmare, however I did arrive up to feed them last night to find someone had accidentally closed a door behind them and left a cat imprisoned in the sitting room for about twenty four hours. Poor little orange bastard fucker. Opening the door and seeing him slither out past my legs I was filled with the dread of the turd hunt. Cos believe me, I might not get a lot of texts from boys, but hunting for the looming poos of an angry redhead is not my idea of a fun way to spend an evening. And oh how they loomed. Variously and sternly. I really hate catshit.

So my date the other night; I know you're dying to know all the horrifically embarrassing things I did but unfortunately I didn't screw up once. Except for when he said something totally innocent that I mistook for a racist slur, and then when I realized my mistake I laughed until I actually cried while he looked on, confused and slightly upset. But apart from that it was fine. I look forward to dating many more not racists before school's out.