Day 54: The Cat Podcast, The Strike & The Bean Disaster

Sep 8
2 min read

Wow.

We had another full moon cat podcast at 3am this morning.

Honestly, Ruby was chatting away like she’s hosting Radio Meow FM.

Who is she talking to?

The spirit world?

Jeff Bezos?

My deceased goldfish from 1992?

I would LOVE to know.

Sometimes I look at her and think, who were you in your previous life? Because the way she struts about, she was either Cleopatra’s advisor, or someone’s very bitter ex-mother-in-law.

Anyway.

The whole week is “working from home week” thanks to the mighty TFL and their strike. I pay so much money for tickets - where does it even go?

Are they building a golden underground lair for mice?

Absolute piss-take.

But maybe, just maybe, this strike was a blessing in disguise… because what happened after breakfast… oh lord.

So, I had a slice of seeded wholemeal bread.

Cute, innocent, friendly.

Then my brain whispered: “Add baked beans.”

And like a fool, I obeyed.

Thirty minutes later, I’m hunched over the toilet like I’m auditioning for Exorcist: The Musical.

Puking, seeing stars, whispering goodbyes to my furniture.

My stomach screamed, “BETRAYAL!” Never again, Heinz.

Never again.

I crawled back to life with peppermint tea, 4 litres of water, and a Dioralyte shot like it was tequila in Ibiza.

Honestly, what a start.

Then I panicked - if a couple of beans did this, what is Thursday’s dose of 7.5 jab going to do?

Am I going to spontaneously combust?

Guess we’ll find out.

Of course, I needed a nap, but instead I got chained to my laptop.

Meetings, PowerPoint decks, pings, Teams messages… honestly, who invented work? Jail them.

By mid-afternoon, my stomach was still sulking.

I had a Graze protein bar - aka cardboard disguised as food - and then finally, around 3pm, I attempted “lunch”.

(Well, more like late lunch/early dinner/cry for help.)

I decided on Korean noodles, which I was very excited about… except half ended up in the bin because my stomach ghosted me again.

Has anyone seen it?

Missing.

Possibly living under witness protection.

I did manage a bit of cleaning, but that nearly finished me off.

Virus is still clinging on like the last drunk guest at a wedding.

I wanted to go for a walk, but honestly?

My body said, “No babes.”

Took vitamins instead and called it cardio.

Truly, I live the dream.

By evening, I was so wiped I collapsed in front of some truly rubbish TV.

And now I’m off to bed early, because if Ruby’s already lined up another 3am Catcast, I want at least a few hours of peace first.

Wow.

We had another full moon cat podcast at 3am this morning.

Honestly, Ruby was chatting away like she’s hosting Radio Meow FM.

Who is she talking to?

The spirit world?

Jeff Bezos?

My deceased goldfish from 1992?

I would LOVE to know.

Sometimes I look at her and think, who were you in your previous life? Because the way she struts about, she was either Cleopatra’s advisor, or someone’s very bitter ex-mother-in-law.

Anyway.

The whole week is “working from home week” thanks to the mighty TFL and their strike. I pay so much money for tickets - where does it even go?

Are they building a golden underground lair for mice?

Absolute piss-take.

But maybe, just maybe, this strike was a blessing in disguise… because what happened after breakfast… oh lord.

So, I had a slice of seeded wholemeal bread.

Cute, innocent, friendly.

Then my brain whispered: “Add baked beans.”

And like a fool, I obeyed.

Thirty minutes later, I’m hunched over the toilet like I’m auditioning for Exorcist: The Musical.

Puking, seeing stars, whispering goodbyes to my furniture.

My stomach screamed, “BETRAYAL!” Never again, Heinz.

Never again.

I crawled back to life with peppermint tea, 4 litres of water, and a Dioralyte shot like it was tequila in Ibiza.

Honestly, what a start.

Then I panicked - if a couple of beans did this, what is Thursday’s dose of 7.5 jab going to do?

Am I going to spontaneously combust?

Guess we’ll find out.

Of course, I needed a nap, but instead I got chained to my laptop.

Meetings, PowerPoint decks, pings, Teams messages… honestly, who invented work? Jail them.

By mid-afternoon, my stomach was still sulking.

I had a Graze protein bar - aka cardboard disguised as food - and then finally, around 3pm, I attempted “lunch”.

(Well, more like late lunch/early dinner/cry for help.)

I decided on Korean noodles, which I was very excited about… except half ended up in the bin because my stomach ghosted me again.

Has anyone seen it?

Missing.

Possibly living under witness protection.

I did manage a bit of cleaning, but that nearly finished me off.

Virus is still clinging on like the last drunk guest at a wedding.

I wanted to go for a walk, but honestly?

My body said, “No babes.”

Took vitamins instead and called it cardio.

Truly, I live the dream.

By evening, I was so wiped I collapsed in front of some truly rubbish TV.

And now I’m off to bed early, because if Ruby’s already lined up another 3am Catcast, I want at least a few hours of peace first.

Three more days until weigh-in and the next jab.

Fragile stomach, fragile patience, but hey… still here. Still jabbing.

Goodnight my fellow jabbers. May your beans never betray you.

With Love,

JABatha Christie

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