The strange neighbourhood cat lady.
I sometimes wonder if that’s what I’ll be when I hit the big 3-0. Strange I am already, the lady bit needs me to be a tad more refined, and my cat just had kittens. So now all I need is a neighbourhood with annoying kids who point and stare, ring my doorbell and tie strings on my cat’s tail.
This perception of my future was intended as a joke that made people look at me in a puzzled manner and the robustly agree with others, that I am indeed strange. [I must clarify at this point that the term strange in my book has absolutely no derogatory connotations; rather it’s a more concise way of saying “weird and wonderful” (Note that weird has no negative connotations either) and therefore is a compliment]
I just discovered this weekend that my family does not have a funny gene. The more I jest about my life the more fretful they get. [As I type this I realise that the term ‘fretful’ may imply varying states of mind from irritable to neurotic] [Neurotic genes my family most definitely has, and I’m not the sole example of it’s manifestation]
My father in particular seems to be concerned. He woke up one day and imagined that he might just be stuck with me for a long, long time, and has since been having sleepless nights. This has induced a strong grand-paternal instinct in him and he has since begun to hassle me. [Since he expressed no parent-in-law desires at that stage, I sweetly offered to have some illegitimate grandchildren; for after all one does endeavour to fulfil some of your parent’s aspirations. This was not taken well]. This anxious behaviour of his has begun to worry me far more than the prospect of living alone. My father you see is/ was my idol, a man of principle. And on principle he had sworn never to subject a fellow man to the cruelty that was marriage to his daughter. And now this man of virtue had buckled under the omnipresent thought that he may be the only man I plague for the rest of my life.
Unfortunately for daddy dearest, if I had to pick between Men and Mice at this stage of my life, I would think of saving on cat food and pick the latter.
This perception of my future was intended as a joke that made people look at me in a puzzled manner and the robustly agree with others, that I am indeed strange. [I must clarify at this point that the term strange in my book has absolutely no derogatory connotations; rather it’s a more concise way of saying “weird and wonderful” (Note that weird has no negative connotations either) and therefore is a compliment]
I just discovered this weekend that my family does not have a funny gene. The more I jest about my life the more fretful they get. [As I type this I realise that the term ‘fretful’ may imply varying states of mind from irritable to neurotic] [Neurotic genes my family most definitely has, and I’m not the sole example of it’s manifestation]
My father in particular seems to be concerned. He woke up one day and imagined that he might just be stuck with me for a long, long time, and has since been having sleepless nights. This has induced a strong grand-paternal instinct in him and he has since begun to hassle me. [Since he expressed no parent-in-law desires at that stage, I sweetly offered to have some illegitimate grandchildren; for after all one does endeavour to fulfil some of your parent’s aspirations. This was not taken well]. This anxious behaviour of his has begun to worry me far more than the prospect of living alone. My father you see is/ was my idol, a man of principle. And on principle he had sworn never to subject a fellow man to the cruelty that was marriage to his daughter. And now this man of virtue had buckled under the omnipresent thought that he may be the only man I plague for the rest of my life.
Unfortunately for daddy dearest, if I had to pick between Men and Mice at this stage of my life, I would think of saving on cat food and pick the latter.
