Day 91: Of Sick Cats, Sourdoughs, and Suspicious Aligners

Ah, Wednesday.

Bin day.

The day of domestic glamour and olfactory challenges.

I awoke to the gentle purr of Ruby - my sweet, spewy alarm clock - perched elegantly upon my chest. A vision of feline serenity… until I realised she had once again redecorated the carpet.

And, for added flair, the freshly washed duvet.

With undigested food.

Truly, a multi-sensory experience.

Poor baby. Although… between her nausea and my appetite swings, I’m beginning to suspect she’s been sneaking my Mounjaro jabs.

Once I’d completed the ritualistic mop-up (armed with kitchen roll, Vanish, and the kind of dead-eyed determination usually reserved for CSI teams), I rewarded myself with a lie-in.

Because frankly, if you’ve scrubbed cat sick before your first coffee, you deserve an OBE.

Breakfast of Champions: Coffee with collagen (because apparently that’s who I am now), and a couple of sourdough toasts piled high with chicken slices, juicy tomatoes, and - of course - Polish pickles.

Crunchy, tangy, and emotionally stabilising.

Then it was time to log on.

I was working from home today - a blessing, given that my energy reserves were hovering somewhere between “sleepy sloth” and “drained iPhone battery.”

Two days of full-on corporate brainstorming, group exercises, and pretending to be an extrovert had taken their toll.

Add in two consecutive nights out (not late, but still - outside) and I was basically running on collagen fumes.

The day itself? A marathon of comms, calls, presentations, and decision-making.

So many decisions.

By lunchtime, my brain had reached maximum capacity.

The thought of choosing between Teams backgrounds might have tipped me over the edge.

Late lunch was homemade chili con carne - rich, hearty, and infinitely more satisfying than any ready-made nonsense.

Honestly, how do people live off microwave meals?

I get the occasional COOK indulgence (we all need a lazy luxury moment), but real cooking?

That’s therapy with flavour.

I swear I could solve world peace over a bubbling pot of chili.

Then, off to the dentist.

Ah yes, my favourite recurring side quest.

I foolishly believed I was done - over two years of aligners, sanding, filing, straightening, and endless appointments later.

But no.

The saga continues.

More aligners are coming.

And of course, retainers for the night.

Because nothing screams “glamour” like sleeping in dental plastic. Apparently, a couple more months to go.

I’ve stopped asking questions.

By the time I got home, I wasn’t remotely hungry - probably still full from my chili and the lingering taste of dentist gloves.

So, I skipped dinner, grabbed a blanket, and dived into the second episode of Coldwater.

My GOD.

What an absolutely unhinged masterpiece.

Without spoiling too much: if you think you’re good at spotting red flags - no, you’re not.

Not compared to this.

There’s deceit, betrayal, madness, and moments where you’re just yelling at the screen like, “WHY ARE YOU STILL TALKING TO HIM?!”

It’s like if Line of Duty and The White Lotus had a baby that was raised on lies and bad decisions.

Highly recommend.

Finally, I tucked myself into bed early - because tomorrow is the holy trinity: Weigh-In Day, Fresh Estrogen Patch, and of course, Jab Day.

My body’s very own admin afternoon.

Now the only question remains: where to jab this time?

The abdomen?

The thigh?

The side of my cat’s vet bill out of spite?

Decisions, decisions…

And with that, I bid you goodnight from the land of Mounjaro mayhem - where the cats vomit, the scales taunt, the dentist never ends, and the pickles are always Polish.

With Love,

JABatha Christie