Day 56: Fleas, Folly, Food Noise & Follicles

Friends, gather round, because Day 56 was a full-on episode of “The Jabatha Show: Chaos Edition.”

First things first - no cat podcast today.

Zero, nada, zilch.

Ruby must have taken the day off from broadcasting her 3am “Meow FM” talk show.

I actually slept.

Like a real human.

Without feline commentary in surround sound. Bliss.

The morning kicked off nicely with a coffee and collagen - my attempt to drink my way to eternal youth and a non-saggy jawline.

Then, disaster struck: I tried to have a Graze protein bar but couldn’t open the bloody thing. Wrestled with the wrapper like it was a Rubik’s Cube in shrink-wrap.

Finally gave up.

Perhaps it was divine intervention – the universe saying, “Darling, step away from the 150 calories of compressed sawdust.”

I opened it and ate it later!

Speaking of wrestling… ladies and gentlemen, I finally managed to put flea treatment on Ruby.

Now, if you’ve ever tried to apply flea drops to a cat, you’ll know it’s less “gentle pet care” and more “Hunger Games tribute training.”

Honestly, you have a better chance of catching a mosquito while blindfolded and wearing oven mitts. This cat turned into a parkour stunt double the second she saw me with the little tube.

But I WON.

She’s dosed.

Victory is mine.

(For now. She’s definitely plotting revenge.)

Then… ah, the eggs. The eggs that betrayed me. 🍳

I caved in and had them for breakfast, despite knowing my gallbladder is a distant memory and bile acid malabsorption is my unwanted sidekick. Let’s just say the loo roll industry owes me a personal thank-you note for today’s contribution to their profits.

My digestive tract deserves its own tragic opera.

Meetings? Mostly cancelled because my boss got Covid.

But there was still plenty to do.

Meanwhile, Molly the other cat decided today was National Zoomies Day. She sprinted across the house like she was auditioning for Fast & Furious: Feline Drift.

Between her and Ruby, I swear my home is a circus with whiskers.

Now, here’s the plot twist: no food noise today.

After popping up yesterday just to remind me it exists, the little demon vanished again. Packed its bags, said “ciao,” and disappeared into the abyss.

Good riddance.

Highlight (or lowlight?): I think my hair is starting to fall out.

Cue the panic spiral.

I’ve been religiously taking The Oslo Skin Lab collagen, biotin capsules, using Plantur caffeine shampoo AND conditioner, and now I’ve ordered this bougie new potion - Chāmpo Pitta growth serum.

Between this cocktail of science and witchcraft, surely something’s gotta work. Because if I go bald on top of juggling cats, jabs, and bathroom dramas, it’s game over.

Oh, and speaking of jabs… drama in the Mounjaro world. Apparently, the manufacturer is now releasing new pens without the golden dose. Translation: less medication for more money.

Classic greedy pharma plotline. People are already switching to different providers faster than you can say “monopoly.”

Listen, dear manufacturer, don’t poke the jabbers. We’ll revolt. We’ve survived food noise and cat fleas. We can survive YOU.

Dinner? Pistachio nuts. Just a handful.

What am I, a squirrel?

Should I start storing them in my cheeks for winter?

Weather check:

Cold.

Wet.

Raining non-stop.

Good for plants, terrible for my soul. I wanted a walk, but alas – the sofa won.

Tomorrow, maybe.

Rounded off the day with TV: Masterchef (with contestants mysteriously edited out, seriously who’s disappearing them??), Bake Off (where Noel’s jumpers are clearly knitted during fever dreams), and still… NOTHING. No excitement. No belly tingle. Just meh.

Am I broken?

Tomorrow is weigh-in AND jab day!

Woohoo!

Bring on the scale showdown and the sacred stabbing.

Until then, night night fellow jabbers.

May your cats be flea-free, your hair follicles resilient, and your food noise muted.

With Love,

JABatha Christie