DAY OF DISCOVERY

If I had to some up today in one word, I would choose entertaining. In a nutshell, I almost broke my cat, I had a tv fall on my face and I melted my pink frying pan. I mean, who does that in one day?

So I woke up at 6am to an alarm because I timed my sleep the night before. I had decided to use my phone alarm specifically because I wanted to avoid the news.

I did my normal shuffle to the kitchen for my daily coffee hit and then I laced up for a run in my complex. To paint a picture, my complex is tiny - there is only one street and if you’re driving in, you’ll travel downhill for about 200 meters and then be greeted by a locked gate. You would have to make an awkward u-turn to get back out. On foot, the climb back up is ghastly. My mother knows because she would walk this daily pre-lockdown.

So I ran this route in circles until I got to 5 kilometers. Of course, I stopped numerous times to greet the cats who so curiously were watching me. A friend in my running group, Claudine, had run around her balcony and she managed to bank 2 kilometers prior to my run. So when I was ready to quit after 3 kilometers because I was getting bored, I thought about her resilience and continued to push.

My day unfolded with laughter and tears, when during a bout of vacuuming and moving furniture around, a tv fell on my face. I immediately curled on the floor, vacuum still on, waiting for myself to black out from the pain. It didn’t happen. Instead I opened my eyes slowly to my cat Mexico, sniffing curiously at my hand that was now laying limp on top of my right hip. She gave it a compassionate lick or two, I can’t even remember clearly.

Fast forward to lunchtime, I figured I was injured with a big welt forming next to my right eye, so I opted to dig into my stash of frozen meals and heat up some butternut soup. I cranked the stove to high and got on with it. Next to my soup pot was a large pink pan that I was planning to use to make crepes for tea time. I didn’t look at it again properly until I was making my sweet snack. As I hummed to Hillsongs, salivating in anticipation at my wonderful crepe, it slowly dawned on me that my pan was no longer round. It was a dented. I had bloody melted my pan by leaving it next to a piping hot stove earlier. WTF! Another moment of self-sabotage - this was becoming a habit.

After that episode, while I was reading before the sun set, I got the fright of my life, when my cat started heaving suddenly - almost like she was choking on a piece of paper. I knew exactly what was happening. She was about to vomit and all over my carpet nonetheless. I just couldn’t let that happen.

Like a viper, I ran towards the sound in my bedroom, razor-focused on getting her out of the house quickly. I spotted her and thanked God that she was close to my balcony door. With that thought, in a swift Matrix-like motion, I grabbed her and with aim, flung her like a bag of maize meal towards the glass door. She was going to make it, I was certain, and I wouldn’t have to clean the carpet for like the umpteenth time.

Except - she didn’t make it.

I heard a massive thud accompanied by a shrill cat cry. To my absolute horror, I watched Mexico fall to the ground in a state of defeated agony. The door was closed, and I can still hear the window rattle. Almost instantly out came the entire insides of my cat. Grass, bile, water and dignity. All over my bedroom carpet…

She gasped for air and I just stood there, guilty and instantly remorseful.

Needless to say, I spent the entire day trying to suck up to my Mexico. She only looked me in the eye at 9pm when I was about to sleep. I think I saw forgiveness there but I can’t be certain.