Love Is for Losers by Wibke Brueggemann (motivational books for men .TXT) 📕

Should I tidy my room before Emma comes tomorrow?

I don’t want to get the hoover out in case I suck up a kitten by accident.

Why do they have to be under my wardrobe?

Friday, March 30 #GoodFriday

I hardly slept, because those bloody kittens were making rustling and suckling noises all night. And suddenly I couldn’t hear them at all, and I was like: Oh no, they can’t die before Emma has seen them, and so I crawled under the wardrobe with my phone for a torch to check, but turned out they were just asleep; except then they woke up.

It’s a bank holiday today, so the shop was only open from eleven until four thirty, and of course people were buying Easter cards until four thirty.

They must be hand delivering.

I honestly never realized Easter cards were even a thing.

Mum sent an email this morning to say she’s okay and that all she wants for Easter is to have a hot bath and a glass of wine.

I’m not being funny, but she could have that every day, so I’ve got zero sympathy for her.

I took a picture of the kittens and sent it to her, but it’s shit because it’s too dark, and the kittens look more like furballs than kittens.

Emma came home with us after work, and we made pizza.

Kate wasn’t as crazy as usual at dinner (i.e., not talking about sex or vaginas or James in order to embarrass me in front of others), which makes me think that she knows something about Emma I don’t. I really hate that: When you know that you don’t know something.

The cats are still under the wardrobe, and so Emma had to crawl underneath. The kittens were making strange gargling noises, and Emma was just like: “This is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Kate was like: “Maybe you should adopt one. Or four.”

Kate then agreed to setting up an online account to sell the Star Wars poster, but apparently she has to have it signed off with her line manager first. She was also like: “If we bother with this, I think we need to try harder to locate novelty items and designer clothes in the future.”

Emma and I are going to take charge because, let’s face it, Pat would’ve probably binned the poster, and she probably doesn’t even know who Mark Hamill is, even though she’s old and Star Wars is old; Pat’s, like, zero into anything cool. She’s actually zero into anything.

At nine Kate was like: “Shall I take you home, Emma?” But Emma was like: “No way, I’ll walk, it’s only fifteen minutes.” And then Kate was like: “Phoebe, walk Emma home.”

No one ever worries about me.

Emma can’t possibly go home on her own, but Phoebe’s okay to go there and back.

On her own.

In South London.

Even though she’s only fifteen, and Emma’s already sixteen and really doesn’t need a chaperone, because even though she’s very lovely, she’s feisty AF.

Obviously I didn’t mind. I like Emma a lot. She’s got this laugh she only does occasionally, and it’s proper wicked, and it doesn’t match her face, but when she does it, it’s like someone’s struck a match inside her eyes.

Back to work tomorrow.

Emma reckons we should call ourselves the Female Fortune Finders and have our own TV show.

Saturday, March 31 #ER

The Female Fortune Finders are on fire.

We found a twenty-pound note in a donated handbag.

It was a shit one, too, with a broken strap, and I was just about to chuck it in the rag bin when Emma was like: “Have you checked inside?”

Now I’m even checking inside trouser pockets, because you really never know.

The donation of the week this week (apart from the Star Wars poster, obvs) is an orange exercise ball. When we pulled it out of the bin bag, it was mostly deflated, and so Emma tried to blow it up by blowing into the tiny hole, but that didn’t do anything, and then Kate remembered that someone had donated a foot pump once upon a time. It took us, like, an hour to find it, but when the exercise ball was inflated, we took it out for a spacey hop on the shop floor. Emma did three big bounces before she faceplanted in front of the till.

We were literally dying with laughter, but Kate just shook her head and was like: “And thus concludes this little interlude.” She took the exercise ball away and put it in the window.

It sold three minutes later, and when the man left with it, Kate was like: “Certain things only have one outcome.”

Emma: Eternal fun for the whole family?

Kate: ER, pet. ER.

Sunday, April 1 #WhenJesusLaidTheChocolateEgg

Happy Easter.

I got a giant Easter egg from the designer cats and a selection of small eggs from the kittens.

Kate’s so strange.

I felt bad because I didn’t get her anything, but we ended up sharing the giant egg right after breakfast.

Then we moved the kittens from underneath my wardrobe into the kitten box in the living room.

They’re not doing much yet, just stalking around making high-pitched squealing noises.

I reckon we need to sell them ASAP, because people like cute things. Maybe we can put them on eBay?

I’ve decided Easter is my favorite holiday.

Kate and I did literally nothing. Then we WhatsApped Mum. We showed her the kittens, and she was all like: “Awwwwww, we can have one, Phoebe, if you like. They’re very cute.”

When she said “we,” she didn’t mean us, she meant me, because who’s going to end up looking after it? Not her. And then the kitten and I have to live with Kate, and suddenly there’s, like, three cats in this house, and everything will smell of cat piss, and then Kate and I may as well kill ourselves straightaway, because where do you go from there? Besides, I don’t even like cats.

Monday, April 2 #HouseholdManagement

Note to self: Never actually get a job in retail, because you’re going to have to