Day 20: The Mystery of the Missing Appetite (and Other Strange Occurrences)

Last night I was anxious and jittery for absolutely no reason.

Could it have been the Mounjaro? Hormones?

Or maybe a premonition that I was about to be dragged into yet another episode of Midnight Cat Drama.

Whatever it was, I went to bed early and prayed for solid sleep.

Did I get it? Unclear.

Because Cat #1 decided she had urgent business to discuss at 3am - loudly, passionately, and with dramatic pauses for effect.

I don’t know who she was talking to (an invisible friend? MI5?), but the conversation had depth.

This wasn’t your run-of-the-mill “feed me” meow; this was high-level diplomacy.

Meanwhile, Cat #2 was on some sort of speed trial - charging through the house with the kind of determination you only see in professional athletes and people chasing the ice cream van.

Honestly, if I fitted her with a tiny GoPro, I think we’d uncover not only the source of her motivation but possibly a small underground racing league.

My gut tells me a full moon is behind it all.

Or witchcraft.

Come morning, coffee was essential.

I laced it with my Oslo Skin Lab collagen - the magic powder I’ve been religiously using for nearly three months.

The results? My hair is sprouting faster than a Chia Pet on steroids, and my skin is now so smooth it could get me cast in an advert for baby lotion.

If I shaved my head and wore a nappy, you wouldn’t know the difference.

Still, I forced down some breakfast: a wholemeal thin with smoked salmon.

Used to be one of my favourites.

Now? Tastes like licking a salted pier.

Honestly, how does one just wake up one day and decide salmon is awful?

Appetite still missing in action. Might put up a “Lost” poster.

Work started at 7am and didn’t let up.

I spent the morning bouncing between calls and emails like some kind of caffeinated switchboard operator from the 1950s.

My brain fog was so thick that if it had been outside, planes would have been grounded.

Still managed lunch (yes, another protein bowl - don’t judge me) and was thrilled to log two very successful trips to the bathroom.

Sometimes, it’s the little victories.

Then, as if on cue, the neighbours launched into yet another domestic.

I swear they have a script and rehearse between performances.

The projection is excellent - I can hear every syllable.

If they ever charge admission, I expect free entry for being a long-suffering audience member.

After work, I escaped for a long countryside walk.

No neighbours, no noise - just fresh air, mud, and a brief moment of imagining myself as one of those wholesome people who “live for the outdoors.”

Then I remembered that the pre-Mounjaro me preferred indoors with Wi-Fi and snacks. Well kind of..

Dinner was leftover soup. Normally I’d sulk about leftovers, but it was surprisingly decent - almost smugly so, like it knew I’d been dreading it.

Then I treated myself to a long, hot bath.

The kind where you pretend you’re at a luxury spa but in reality, you’re just staring at your bathroom tiles wondering if you should scrub them now or let it go.

No wine tonight, though - I’m being “good.” Which is a shame, because wine makes bath-time amazing.

Finished the evening with Destination X. After two episodes, I can confirm: this country’s geography knowledge is in crisis.

Half the contestants couldn’t find their own house without Google Maps.

Tomorrow means the office and a 5am alarm.

If you hear weeping in the early hours, it’ll be me, mourning my sleep.

Sleep well, my fellow Mounjaro travellers.

The investigation into my missing appetite continues.

With Love,

JABatha Christie