Needing a vase, I went downstairs to our basement [or as I like to call it "Mordor-lite"] and came across one of my favourites. During my late teens, I was somewhat antiques obsessed, and I found this yellow vase with a simplistic pink and green motif drawn on it. [I also nurtured an obsession for the colour combination of pink and green, which I have fortunately outgrown.] The dealer who sold it to me mentioned that the vase was probably Italian, and circa 1930ish. It's an acquired taste to be sure, but I have great memories attached to this vase.
I was so chuffed at coming across it that I had one of those lovely "I haven't seen this in ages" moments, when all the original joy of an object comes rushing back to you. So I decided to use it for the roses.
Saturday arrived and still recovering from the week that was, I slept in until approximately 12:30 p.m. and arrived downstairs to see that the roses were not on top of the CD stand. The worse had happened. One of my feline charges decided a visit to the salad bar was in order and the result was this:
[You will notice Dear Reader, that I have exercised some artistic license with the inclusion of a rose. I feel that this most adequately imparts the pathos of the moment.]
It's certainly a more elegant depiction than what really happened, which essentially consisted of my having a miniature nervous breakdown. After such a brutal week, this was truly the cherry on the bullsh*t sundae.
Here is the suspected culprit, although I have no definitive evidence other than Neko's incessant need to eat grass.
Determined to find a ceramic restorer, I decided not to dwell on the matter. I cut the roses down and placed them in a glass.
This morning I came down and found this:
and this:
As these pictures clearly demonstrate [aside from the the fact that even when clean our floors look like total ass] Neko's debauchery knows no bounds.
Although she has excellent taste in flowers. I'll give her that.
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