Not long ago I have written about my 35th birthday. I can tell you that around this age a lot of people are having babies. Ever since I have been ill, in all these years, so many babies were born, that I need more than two hands to keep track of counting. It is of course the biological clock that makes so much noise. People get itchy by the tick tick ticking away of the time and before you know it a new pregnancy is announced.
But not mine. Something that will cause these fresh parents sleepless nights in about two decades from now is troubling me at the moment. It is having the empty nest syndrome.
Last week a friend of mine was on holiday and I took care of her two guinea pigs. And just the other day she came to pick them up. Now the house is so quiet and empty. My new friends Vincent and Anneke are back home. Their home. To whom can I talk to now?! Nope, not the plants, I am not that desperate.
This empty nest syndrome (I can manage another one of that, no worries) is a bit weird for me, since I am not that much into guinea pigs. Personally, I am one crazy cat lady. A crazy cat lady that has been without a cat for years. Sure, there are plenty homeless cats here in the Netherlands that I can get from an animal shelter. But somehow I got this idea that our paths should be crossing. You can call it ‘coincidence’ or ‘by accident’, or say that ‘it was meant to be’. I am still waiting for a kitty cat to fall from the sky right into my lap, the both of us purring happily.
I am looking forward to meet my whiskers in shining armor. One day it will happen.
This was the story about my birthday: Just an ordinary day with a yummy slice of fruitcake
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