20/10/2025
The Night the Idiots Bowled in My Bath
Friday. Just past midnight.
Rattle. Thud. Repeat.
I wake up to find Bobby and Napoleon playing ten-pin bowling in the bath.
A deaf cat bites me (my fault, she can’t hear me coming), I nearly lose a foot, and apparently, the rest of the house sleeps through Armageddon.
Saturday morning.
No dogs fed.
No cats fed.
No humans moving.
Apparently, feeding the animals requires a diploma now.
By evening, I’m limping around in pain, cooking dinner — because heaven forbid anyone else risk effort.
The dogs, bless their souls, sit quietly at my side.
Animals get it.
Humans don’t.
Sunday.
I drive myself to buy an ankle support.
Ask for help.
Get blank stares.
Ask, “Do you know the difference between entitlement and self-entitlement?”
Silence.
Not a phone lookup. Not a thought. Just... buffering faces.
At that moment, I realised — the human race might actually deserve extinction.
Bring on the robots. At least they follow instructions.
By Monday, I’ve accepted it.
I’m feeding everyone — on one foot — while the “so tired” generation scrolls on their phones.
So yes, I’ll say it again, loud enough for the algorithm to hear:
I. Do. Not. Speak. Stupid.
And to my daughter, in my best mom voice:
“Do not grow up to be useless.
Pretty face, hollow mind — no thank you.”
Younger generations, take notes.
Empathy is not optional.
Common sense is not extinct — you just stopped feeding it.
