Day 105: Of Rats, Radio waves, and Random ADHD Chaos

Oct 30
4 min read

Ah, the sweet joy of working from home - also known as “the illusion of peace until your cat decides you’ve slept enough.”

This morning, I was deep in a glorious dream involving a spa, Idris Elba, and unlimited snacks that somehow didn’t count as calories… when BAM!

Molly the Cat decided I was her breakfast butler.

Full leap, claws of doom, right onto my stomach.

“FEED ME, WOMAN!”

So naturally, I stumbled out of bed half-asleep, hair resembling a tumbleweed, muttering something between a swear and a prayer.

Coffee came next, obviously - with collagen, of course, because we’re still clinging to the illusion of youth.

But honestly?

For someone who used to be a raging coffee addict, Mounjaro has ruined the magic. I used to sip coffee like a Parisian poet - now I drink it like medicine.

It’s not pleasure anymore; it’s survival.

Breakfast was two pieces of toast with chicken.

Well, theoretically.

I made two.

Ate one.

Looked at the second like it had personally insulted me.

My brain said “hungry,” but my body said “nah.”

Food noise is weird.

One second I’m starving, the next I’d rather chew a USB cable.

And can we talk about taste? Food just doesn’t taste the same anymore. Things I used to love now taste like cardboard that’s been emotionally neglected.

Side effects, I guess.

Anyway, on to work!

Ah yes, another thrilling day in corporate paradise - back-to-back Teams calls and PowerPoints. I swear I’ve become a full-time PPT designer with part-time emotional stability.

I could probably animate a bar chart in my sleep at this point.

Bonkers.

I was in a strangely funny mood all day - no idea why.

Possibly because my ADHD brain decided to spice things up.

No dopamine?

No problem!

We’ll just improvise a personality shift and make bad jokes in meetings.

Speaking of random thoughts - I remembered my MRI yesterday.

They asked me to remove my HRT patch from my butt.

I was like, excuse me, what’s the correlation between my oestrogen and your giant space magnet?

Would I have combusted mid-scan?

Gone up like a menopausal witch in a metallic blaze?

Imagine the newspaper headline:

“Local woman spontaneously ignites during MRI due to hot patch action. Hospital staff describe event as ‘illuminating.’”

So yes, I removed it.

Dignity - gone.

Science - confused.

Fast forward to later in the day, I noticed it was freezing again, so I put the heating on. Autumn is out here sneaking up like, “Boo! Hope you budgeted for oil.”

Then came the real drama. I went downstairs, looked out through the conservatory, and nearly choked on my herbal tea.

There it was.

A rat.

Not just any rat.

A chunky, overconfident, well-fed rat with a backside the size of a tangerine, hanging off one of my bird feeders - munching on a fat ball meant for my tiny singing friends.

THE AUDACITY.

This was not Ratatouille.

This was Ratageddon.

I’ve been feeding these adorable robins, sparrows, and blue tits for weeks. Seeds, nuts, fat balls - the good stuff.

I wanted to be the Snow White of Kent!

Instead, I’ve become the manager of a rodent buffet.

I’ve now seen that little gremlin twice before.

Clearly, he’s relocated from someone else’s garden, because my bird station has Michelin-star vibes. I need to find his original landlord and return him - preferably by catapult.

So yes, I did what any self-respecting woman on a mission would do: went straight on Amazon and ordered a rat box to capture the burglar.

Next-day delivery, of course.

Jeff Bezos may not fix the world, but he can fix my rodent problem. Operation Fat Bastard Extermination has begun.

Back to work - calls, slides, deadlines, and pretending to be professional while my mind wandered to how I might booby-trap the garden like Home Alone.

The glamour!

Dinner rolled around, but appetite didn’t.

Ate a bit, instantly felt nauseous.

10/10 dining experience.

Then it was sofa time we watched Grand Designs: The Podcast.

Such a bittersweet episode; one of the partners passed away from cancer during filming, and her wife now lives alone in the gorgeous, Scandi-style home they built together.

So beautiful.

So Hygge.

So many candles I wanted to move in immediately.

After that, it was The 1% Club! My absolute fave!

And I must say - I smashed it.

Pretty much nailed every question.

My other half and I have a little competition going, but imagine two people with ADHD trying to follow logic puzzles.

Chaos.

Pure chaos.

One minute we’re solving riddles like geniuses, the next we’re arguing about whether giraffes can swim.

And speaking of ADHD - I’ve noticed something funny.

When my GLP levels dip (especially the day before jab day), my ADHD bursts out like a toddler on espresso.

Hyper, chatty, random - borderline ridiculous.

Last time, I spent an hour organising my spice rack alphabetically and then wrote a motivational speech to my slow cooker.

Last week, I impulse-bought a yoga mat and immediately used it as a cat bed.

Efficiency!

Anyway, by the end of the night I was done.

Crawled into bed, surrounded by cats, PowerPoint fatigue, and rat-related vengeance plans.

Working from home for the rest of the week means glorious lie-ins… provided Molly doesn’t stage another 6 a.m. attack.