Thursday, 16 August 2007

Boba Sheen. Or Martin Fett.




This moving is a complicated bizzle. Me and the cat have been playing an elaborate game of, erm, cat n' Loz, as I attempt to stick her in her basket and move her into club Dee, our halfway home of sorts for the next gawd-knows-how-long. It's become something of a stand-off, as she is proving trickier to pack than my record collection, assorted Chesterfield sofas and a battered stylophone. I feel like something of a cut-price bounty hunter, in me goretex jacket, trying to lure her with Cat Bix, me huddled in a corner like a cross between Boba Fett and Martin Sheen in Apocalypse Now, warpaint on, waiting for her to get off the bleedin' roof.

2 comments:

bazza27 said...

I accept he/she's causing you problems but do you think ramming a guitar up it's arse is going to solve anything?

M said...

Hey Loz,
You've probably already moved the moggy by now but I was wondering if you'd thought about just putting her in a cardboard box (with air holes) rather than a basket? Cats + boxes = love.