Colonial Wreaths and Cats – September 22nd, 2000

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Today my school is having this thing they call ‘Colonial Day’. Basically, it’s the lamest day ever invented where they expect us to wear colonial clothes, eat colonial food, sing colonial songs, use no electricity, play colonial games that young ladies would have played back in colonial times, making floral wreaths.

So I stayed home.

Mum said I didn’t have to go if I didn’t want to, after I moaned to her about there being no point. She would have had to drive me all the way out to school for an hour and I wouldn’t have even learnt anything.

Oh, and floral carpets. Apparently that’s something that they’ll be doing today.

She said if I stayed off that I’d have to clean the house, so I’ve done that. Now I’m watching American talk shows. Oh, how I love you talk shows my good friends.

Gross, the most disgusting thing just happened. I left some mince out on the kitchen work bench to thaw, and I sat down to watch the talk show again. I heard a plastic bag rustle in the kitchen. I got up to see what it was, and the cat had his head right in the bag, chomping away at the mince.

I knew my mum would flip her lid at me if she knew I let that happen, so I ran a fork over it so you couldn’t notice. I’m not going to tell anyone, I just won’t eat any dinner tonight. Ewwww.

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