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My cats are so not gangster enough.

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Like a dumbass I managed to lock the shed keys (which were on the same keyring as the back door keys) in the shed yesterday! 

I went to get bread out of the freezer and decide what I was going to rustle up for tea later that day and, for reasons best known to the dustier regions of my mind, padlocked the shed up again whilst leaving the keys still inside!

What a crackhead!  “Never mind” I thought, “Bman has a spare on his keyring”.  Pity then that he had gone to York the day before and taken his keys with him “in case you and the kids decide to go out”.  Not much chance of that happening now that I couldn’t lock the back door properly.

Foxtrot Foxtrot Sierra!

I tried several attempts at lockpicking but was afeared of nacking up the lock altogether so that the actual key wouldn’t then work when Bman got home.  I also tried in vain to coax the cats to get into the shed through the catflap & retrieve the keys for me but they basically laughed in my face (in that way that cats do when they just eyeball you unblinking for a few minutes and then start to lick their butthole contemptuously.)

Where that phrase ‘cat burglar’ comes from I do not know but it clearly doesn’t apply to my two pets.


You want me to do what now?

You want me to do what now?

Fortunately I’d had the foresight to pick up a bottle of wine while I was getting the bread, so all was not totally lost.  Sadly, instead of the ‘sumptuous’ chicken feast I was hoping to cobble together for the childerbeast for their tea, it ended up being tinned items all round.

So now I am waiting for Bman to come home from his carousing around York and open the damn shed so we can have something for lunch that isn’t toast or something from a tin.

Meanwhile, the sun is out and so are the childerbeast.  Outdoors no less after the past 2 days self-imposed house imprisonment.

Lazy times.