Umm … my eggs, they are scrambled.

That is what I replied to S today when he asked my something. What I was actually trying to articulate was the messy state of my brain. And in a way, my answer, was both literal and figurative, as at the time, I was trying to work out how many eggs I would be needing to buy for 2 normal cakes, one real-life doggy cake, 8 doz cupcakes and a fairy cake?!

And let me tell you, there was more scramble than over easy in the carvern that is my skull, ‘coz I had just come out of another job interview, in a neighbouring town. And, between measuring and costing quantities of cocoa, my brain was over-analyzing how things went in the ‘boardroom’ – so to speak. Was I dressed too casually? Did my lippy register as confident-thirties or floozy-forties? How long before the time can I bake a cake, before it is considered stale? Would I like working back in Agriculture? Did I sound intelligent enough and did I ask enough/ too little relevant questions? Is R6 too much to charge for a decent cupcake with real butter icing?

And, as I just dosed myself with a bit of Toddlers ‘n Tiara’s (and can you believe, that brat, Mackenzie, wore the same dress as last time!) me and my wits- we are still weighing up the flour and the effectiveness of Excel in setting up sales calls and customer records.

To end – more verbal dribble from the formiddable C …

After she had chased and tantalized the living daylights out of the formerly dignified female feline, who goes by the name of Maya, the air was filled with exhaustion and the smell of fear. C slowed her pace through the kitchen, as she heard the theme tune to i-Carly filtering in from the TV room,  and swerved left – as the cat veered right – and took a skip, skip, jump – landing her sweaty ass, with a resigned flop, on the couch. But the real cherry-on-top came just before this moment, as C sped past me and mumbled under her breath, “The force is strong with that one.” WTF? I am assuming she was referring to the poor cat, who by then was cowering in the the corner behind my toilet at the opposite end of the house.

C – she also cracks me and my eggs up. No, really.


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