Please Don’t Call Me Gwyneth

I had an extremely blonde moment at work the other day.

I am unlocking the door to my room. I cannot open the sliding door. The key only turns so far either way and the door will not slide at all. I try holding the door tightly to me as I unlock it, I try jiggling the key. I wonder briefly if I have been given the wrong key.  I think about returning to the office to get a new key. Then for some unknown reason I push the door away from me and it opens. Not a sliding door. Like all the other classroom doors. A hinged door. I feel somewhat foolish. Fortunately nobody saw me.

This is the only time I’m going to mention work as things are pretty bleh and stressful for me there at the mo.

On the bright side we have our four legged mouse trap at home.

 

Raaaaaar

 

Meet Chunks.

He is 9 weeks old and has come from a house with 8 children and a dog. So my 3 boys and our dog are a barely a blip on his radar screen. His is sooooo chilled out. The first evening  here he kept getting out of his bed in the back room and lying down in the middle of the loungeroom (where we all were) to sleep.  He eats anything. He stole a Brussels Sprout off my dinner plate the other night. Yes, he is naughty. Buts he’s cute. The mice seem to be quieter. I have heard that once they smell a cat they make themselves scarce. Yay for Chunks.