Christmas 2020

Hmmm. I’ve always loved a good Christmas tree. One that is glowing with lights and glittery decorations. So this year I was especially excited to get my lovely white Christmas tree out of its box, and to decorate it to cheer us up.

The weird thing is, I’ve never really seen snow, but having a white tree brings snow right into your front room, even on a 37 degree day (100F), makes you feel like you are right at home in the Northern hemisphere, not stuck inside in South Australia, because it’s too hot to venture outside.

I should have known that in 2020, having something soothing and lovely, that reminds you of years gone by, would not be the ticket. Enter Sparkles.

My gorgeous little rescue kitty became entranced/obsessed/fixated on the tree. It became her personal boxing ring, her ‘greatest prize I’ve ever gained’ award (as she carried the decorations off into the house), and having four ferrets to help her stash these prizes around the house proved too much. I must have redecorated the tree three times in an effort to stop her. But it was to no avail.

After a night listening to her attacking the tree while I lay in bed, my muse (hubby) and I gave up. I packed everything away, and that was that.

Hubby couldn’t quite go there though, and bought home a really sad little twig of a tree with fibre optic lighting. The first thing Sparkles did was to try and climb up it. Undeterred, I put aluminium foil around the base, put it on a chair and put masking tape around it, with the sticky side up. All good cat foils, according to YouTube videos.

Well, Sparkles breeched all the above, and climbed the tree. It tumbled over onto the blind, and I saw her fleeing up the corridor like Satan himself had whacked her on her bum. After I removed all the crud from the base of the tree (what’s the point?), I noticed she’s left it alone!

Is there a moral in that? Probably, but for now I’ll take our tragic twig tree and just be happy that I’ve discovered solar lights. Yup, being in the Southern Hemisphere means it’s light for ages, so the solar fairy lights have fired up. Hubby announced the other night, as we gazed out onto the backyard, that at least now the aliens have a place lit up enough for them to land. I have to agree with him.

So maybe the lesson is this. 2020 has stopped us doing things we could normally do that bring us pleasure. But if we look a bit further afield, maybe we can create something new to make us happy. And be part of history when the aliens finally do decide to visit!!

If You Had Told Me…

This was my overlocker (serger) on the weekend. It turns out, you shouldn’t try to rethread one without reading the instructions first. Frankly, I think it’s also a very good representation of 2020. Where do you start to untangle it all?

If you had told me this time last year, that I’d be sitting in the front room, having just watched the Melbourne Cup on TV, with no spectators at the race track, I would have thought you were clinically insane. What’s so good about the spectators? Well, this might sound terrible, but it’s the drunk people falling down, showing their knickers, that make Melbourne Cup so damn special. It’s practically an institution, and with no knickers on display, it seems pointless to me.

Then there is possible civil war in the USA post their elections tomorrow, the lockdown/beheadings in Europe, typhoons and earthquakes and… I could go on but I might give myself a panic attack.

One thing I’ve really enjoyed this year (apart from putting butter on everything, because who cares about your cholesterol if we are all going to die), is listening to Vedic astrologers on YouTube. I say this, because they have predicted nearly everything that has happened!! It’s been quite comforting to know that the universe is unravelling, and that the aliens might land soon. It’s literally written in the sky.

If the aliens did land, I think they might turn around and drive away in their space ships. It’s a bit of a shit show here at the moment. But, just in case, I’ve put up enough fairy lights in the backyard for them to use it as a landing strip.

Stay safe, and stay sane!

Plagues and Death

 

Well, May didn’t quite turn out how I thought it would. By that I mean, even in a pandemic, where your entire life is turned upside down, you can still end up on a spin cycle that you didn’t see coming, on top of the pandemic that you kind of saw coming, but still can’t believe arrived.

Our little ferret Maisy (pictured above) got a respiratory viral infection at the beginning of May and died. She fought so hard to stay, but in the end, her little body just couldn’t take anymore and we lost her on our wedding anniversary. It was horrible, and I miss her everyday.

At the same time, I noticed black dandruff coming off our five month old rescue cat Sparkles. She literally is a rescue cat, as I rescued her from the next door neighbours garden in January, when she was a tiny, lost scrap of a kitten. I casually googled black cat dandruff and discovered she was INFESTED with cat fleas. Now, I don’t know about you, but I have a bit of a phobia when it comes to fleas, and trying to deal with that, while Maisy was so sick, was stressful.

Thank God for my washing machine. Fifteen boiled loads of washing later, the house was sanitised and scrubbed, although my friendly vet informed me that problem will be with us for years, and in fact, I’ll probably never get rid of the billions of flea eggs around the house. So Lottie, our remaining ferret, and Sparkles settled into their new routine in our very quiet house. It didn’t last. A few weeks later, hubby and I agreed to foster three gorgeous ferrets from the ferret shelter. They needed a home, and they all come with physical issues, so they can’t be adopted out. We thought it was the least we could do to help out the shelter. Lottie and Sparkles were totally unimpressed with the new arrivals, but after a lot of squealing, chasing of the cat and general ponging of their scent glands, the tribe has now come together harmoniously, so we have five animals in our care.

Great, I thought. Everyone is getting along and it looks like we’ve flattened the flea curve so things can settle down now.

But no. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Turns out, as soon as I let my guard down on the flea front, we had a second wave. The new ferrets came with their own fleas, so everyone got reinfested, and all had to have baths and be dosed with flea treatments. Sparkles sleeps in our bed, and the new arrivals had been bounding all over the bed, and into every dark corner, and couch pillow in the house. It’s winter now so I can’t possibly wash everything again. The vacuum cleaner and flea comb have become my best friend.

Pandemic dramas. They bring their own special problems. Along with the fleas, I think I’ve given myself RSI from kneading bread dough, and whisking flour into butter and sugar, because I’ve been in a baking frenzy trying to get through a huge bag of flour I stupidly purchased, thinking we would never see flour again. The flour is poor quality too, so it hasn’t been a very satisfying experience. Thankfully I don’t have a stash of 540 toilet rolls to work through too. Honestly, 2020 is just the weirdest year all round. What else is going to happen?

We shall have to wait and see. Meanwhile, our house has closed its borders to any new animals coming to visit. A third wave of fleas is not going to happen (until next summer when apparently all the eggs will hatch – dear God).

Stay safe and flea free