Weird is the word of the week for me.
It all began last weekend.
Over the last week or 2 I’ve written about how I’ve not been feeling myself. I’ve recently started a new course of medication. It’s too early to say if the new meds are having an effect. I’ve certainly had my low days recently, but I know that when it comes to anti-depressants, you often feel worse before you feel better. So, I guess it’s just a case of riding it out.
Anyway, back to last weekend. I had to take my son to the Doctors for his flu vaccination. Once we’d gotten that out the way I suggested a trip to the park on the way down to my Mum’s. In fact, it turned into a park-crawl, think a pub crawl but without the booze, or the pubs.
Once we’d exhausted all possible parks within the local area we headed down to my Mum’s on foot. Don’t ask me why I took a detour but I did. I get bored easily you see.
On this detour we stumble across a cat, a cat who looks like he has something hanging from his mouth.
Now, I am quite possibly the nosiest person you’re likely to ever meet. So, before you can say “mind your own sodding business” I’m confronting this cat, thinking whatever it is that’s hanging out of his gob is likely a mouse.
It was a load of blood.
Fuck sake. What do I do now?
I’m desperately trying to keep my son away from the bloodied cat, who is as nosey as I am and trying to befriend us. I am concerned said cat has been hit by a car and needs urgent medical assistance. I’m stood in the middle of this housing estate wondering what the F to do.
So, of course, being the responsible, mature 31 year old that I am, I call my Mum.
Mother tells me I need to find the owner, this will obviously involve me knocking on strangers doors, which doesn’t exactly fill me with joy.
Just as I’m about to start knocking, an elderly lady comes out calling for her cat. It transpires the 15 year old cat (yep, he was proper old) had just had a load of teeth out, the blood was after effects from the operation. Once satisfied the cat was fine, off we went on our merry way.
Now lets fast forward to Monday. Once I’d finished work and my son school, we’d had plans to go to a Halloween party. This never materialised so instead we decided to go bowling. Wes had finished work early so off we head to Bowlplex.
I have to admit, it was a great mood booster. More so because, to not only my surprise but Wes’ too; I won. Once I’d finished my lap of honour, we popped in McDonalds. I exercised extreme restraint by not having a burger and spent a good 20 minutes salivating at everyone else enjoying theirs instead.
As we pile into the car to now head to ASDA, a moving object catches my eye.
It’s a cat.
This cat is dodging cars in McDonalds car park, left, right and centre. And it’s stressing me the fuck out. Of course, there’s little I can do but watch in horror as this cat treats the car park as if its some sort of feline assault course. He soon disappears and we’re left hoping he’s headed off home.
Sadly, this wasn’t the case. As we’re driving out of the complex we see the cat hit by a car. The car doesn’t stop but we do. Wes is pretty certain the cat is dead but I insist we take him to the vets. So we bundle him up in a blanket, pop him on my lap and head to the nearest Vets. I’m sure I can feel him breathing but he’s obviously very seriously injured.
Once inside the vets practice, the vet explains she thinks she can detect a faint heartbeat. She explains she’ll call us once she has more news, whilst I fire questions off about what happens if he lives and doesn’t have an owner. Wes knows where I’m going with this, he knows I’m subtly(!) suggesting we have him.
Unfortunately, we later received a call to say the cat had passed away. He was microchipped so the owners would be made aware.
It was a sad way to end a really nice afternoon/evening. Especially as I now had to field a stream of questions from my very inquisitive 3 year old. I’m still not sure if I answered them to the best of my ability but how do you explain death to a small child?
The rest of the week passed in a haze of stress at work and me feeling low one minute and OK the next.
Saturday soon rolls around.
The weather is shite. I knew I had to get out the house, if I stay in then I fester and this does nothing for my depression. I got myself and my son dressed in record timing and we decide to head to a kids disco we often visit on a Saturday. It’s a bit of a walk and then a bus trip to the disco but always worth it because my son has the time of his life. And I almost treat is as sober clubbing.
Arriving at the disco I have a niggling feeling in the back of my head; is the disco definitely on this week?
I soon discover it isn’t because instead of lights, music and very excitable toddlers is a sea of birds.
Now, I haven’t been on Facebook much recently. It does my head in does bloody Fakebook. Thus, I decided a break could only be a good thing. However, if you want to keep abreast of news especially of the local variety then sometimes Fakebook is a must.
As I soon learnt.
Scrolling through my news feed, dodging the show off posts as I do so, reads “NO DISCO TODAY, ANNUAL BIRD SHOW INSTEAD”
Cue questions from my 3 year old. “But why are there birds instead of a disco Mummy?”
At this point I just want to laugh. Laugh at the weirdness that has been this week just as I spot someone from my past, I’d never want to see again, speed past me.
I’d love to say the weirdness stopped at the lack of disco but it didn’t. Yesterday afternoon was spent knee deep in mud and vomit.
I now feel like I need a lie down in a darkened room with a cold flannel on my head.