However, the biggest mismatch has to be Christmas decorations and cats.

    You’ll known from yesterday’s post that a few discreet and tasteful embellishments have been put up to celebrate the Yuletide period. The cat, however, must think it’s Christmas, birthday and honeymoon have all come at the same time.

    In addition to its revolting collection of semi-chewed toys, it now has lots more fun and interesting things to play with: every decoration that is within jumping range. I awoke this morning to find a scene of glittery chaos.

    Tinsel, bunting and garlands that were yesterday pinned to the walls were now liberally distributed around the floor in little piles with a happy looking animal sat in the middle of it merrily chewing the remains of a plastic elf. On his head were metallic strands of a silver garland and from a first glance it looked like the lead singer in a feline Rastafarian glam rock band.

    I dived for the festive looking animal like a offensive lineman sacking a quarterback but it was too quick for me and darted from the room with two or three yards of decorations trailing behind it like a sparkly comet.

    Several strands of wallpaper were hanging in tatters where the beast had ripped down the decorations and the rest of the day was spent repairing the walls, repainting over the mosaic of paper and tidying the havoc across the carpet.

    Several times I noticed the cat peering through the patio doors still wearing a multi-coloured Christmas headdress. I think it’s mocking me. The neighbours must think we’ve finally gone completely insane and started to decorate household pets in addition to the house.

    If it decides to repeat its one cat demolition performance tomorrow, I intend to catch it and serve the fucking thing up for Christmas dinner. Knowing my luck I’ll probably chock to death on a leg bone.

    Luck, however, was once more on my side during today’s poker…eventually.

    The 1c/2c tables once again had the dubious pleasure of my company and things didn’t start well. The buy-in for these tables is $2 so I extract that amount and confidently take my place. It’s not long before the entire amount is lost and I re-load and try again. And again…and again! Yes, your idiot reporter managed to lose six bucks in the same time frame that most people take to eat their breakfast.

    Not unreasonably, I decide to take a break and perform a few menial tasks around the house while I contemplate my losses.

    Mrs. Snowman is less than sympathetic to my poker woes and more concerned with the reduction of decorations in the living room. She doesn’t believe the cat was responsible and I’m made to put up a few replacements while she makes dinner.

    After our evening meal I invest another $2 and play very tightly, making sensible and reasoned decisions to increase my stack. After a couple of hours I’ve recouped my losses and call it a day when a profit of $2.60 is achieved. I feel very proud that I’ve turned two bucks into twelve and am in such a good mood I even allow the cat re-entry without seeking vengeance.

    The tactics I shall use tomorrow are simple: play tight, play the odds, make $2 profit and walk away.

    Fingers crossed.

    You may be thinking the day ended well but I’m afraid you’d be wrong.

    Mrs. Snowman has purchased a large amount of food and associated beverages to see us through the holidays and under normal circumstances this would be sufficient to last until the New Year. Unfortunately, later in the evening she had a desire to relax with a glass of Southern Comfort and coke. After a few minutes rummaging around in the cupboard she was unable to locate the bottle and politely asked if I knew where it was. The good news: I knew its location precisely; the bad news: I’d already drank it.

    A brief discussion followed that resulted in the sofa doubling as a bed.

    I didn’t have the balls to tell her that her milk chocolate truffles have already suffered the same fate.

    Now that’s going to be a really difficult conversation.

Starting bank:  $0