My weird Easter weekend

Robyn

Being the only soul in Jo’burg over the Easter weekend meant I was on cat duty. That meant trekking to Edenvale to feed my Dad’s cat; using my boyfriend’s DVD player as an excuse to hang out with his cat (since my [very] humble abode and my quest to live the [very] simple life means I don’t have one) and then of course, tending to my own beasts. My one-eyed Red Point Siamese has taken a shining to presenting me with mutant-sized Parktown prawns recently. So a portion of my weekend was spent trying to levitate in fear, and then coming to my senses and trapping the bastard in an empty ice-cream tin and flinging it as far down the driveway as possible. The prawn that is. Not the cat.

That wasn’t the only thing to get me yelling. My neighbour’s house alarm has been going off for three days, but not loud and annoying enough for me to check in at the Formula One hotel and present them the bill on their return from their wonderful holiday – just audible enough to wonder, “Hmmm, what’s that?” and then forget about it. “Oh yay, it’s off!” I shriek, for the ninth time, and stop dead in my tracks to make sure – only for the persistent blinking to make itself known to my ears again. Great. It’s enough to drive you mad.

In fact, I think I have gone mad, because while the birds were singing their first songs of the morning on Easter Monday, I was dreaming I was married to Charlie Sheen. It doesn’t get any weirder than that.