The Silverfish That Just Won't Die

We have two goldfish. But they're not gold. One is silver. The other is black. With googly eyes.

They were probably the last things we moved over from our old house. Mainly because we have no emotional attachment to them. They just swim around and around and I can't pat them and they're a bit boring really.

Nevertheless, I look after them, change their water, feed them, throw a stick for them, take them for walks on balmy evenings. You name it, I do it. It's called 'fish guilt'.

And now to add another dimension to my 'fish guilt' the silverfish has developed a really wonky tail and sits at the bottom of the tank. He's not dead. He'd probably just like to be.

I've asked Matt to euthanise him, but he won't. And every time I see this fish he makes me feel nauseous. I've googled to the nth degree, some say calcium deficiency (but the other fish is fine so it doesn't make sense), and some say electrical currents due to the filter (ditto the aforementioned) and others say it's genetic. It's horrific, that's what it is fo' shiz.

The black fish, aptly named 'Night Fury' occasionally gives the silver (nameless) fish a bit of razz and races him around the tank until the silverfish settles back at the bottom of the tank.

To make matters worse, the Doctor has heard me talking about flushing the fish down the toilet (which I, by the way, don't think is a very eco-solution, let alone RSPCA friendly), to which Tiny responded: "Uh! Don't flush the fish down the toilet. The fish will be sad!" To which the Doctor replied that it was a very special place for half-dead fish to go.

Anyone want our fish?

image is of some very ugly fish I once spotted in the Borrough Markets. Hideous looking things.

So Tired Sunday: Then There Was One

damien hirst's shark - a little different to our fish breeding program

We had a busy Sunday which was a happy, happy thing because I got to see my nephews and brother-in-law who I haven't seen in over a year. Particularly great because they got to meet their newest cousin, and we all got to kick back with a delicious lunch by my sister and other bro-in-law. Good times.

Previously on pottymouthmama I had mentioned our silverfish dying. Well would you believe we saw another two fatalities over the weekend and now there's just one lonely little fish left? It may have had something to do with the fact that Matt walked in when our son was tipping the fish from one bowl to another, rather excitedly. I don't think goldfish do that particularly often in the wild, hence their rapid demise. And today I see one of our snails is floating on the surface of the water. This pet-owning thing is not going well for us.

As a conclusion to the original silver fish that has left us to go swimming in greater waters - I must concur with a number of commenters. I think the other fish must have eaten him. You've no idea how much that disgusts me. It's almost as bad as the mice we had to breed in Year 7, our mummy mouse birthed a whopping 13 babies and ate seven of them. I can't ever imagine eating my own children, but hey - different strokes for different folks.

In other news, Emily from the delightfully effervescent and beautifully-hued sugar & meringue tagged me. Here's the lowdown on how to play:

1) Link to the person who tagged you

2) Mention the rules

3) Tell six quirky yet boring, unspectacular details about yourself

4) Tag six other bloggers by linking to them

5) Go to each person’s blog and leave a comment that lets them know they’ve been tagged

Here are my six reasonably quirky and yet boring (quirky and boring - wowsers, I thought these things were mutually exclusive) things about moi:

* During Year 12 I got my Dad to tape each of the episodes of Australia's Most Wanted so I wouldn't miss it. I loved that show. I have some freaky fascination with crime shows. CSI - the original is my favourite. I even have a special CSI dance I do while the show theme music is running, much to the amusement of my husband.

* I am ridiculously terrified of spiders. I need to get over it, I know. But they seem to follow me. It all started when I was nine and had a life size poster of Elle MacPherson in my bedroom. I thought my sisters had played a prank on me and put a fake spider in my room. I went to pick it up and just as I went to grab it, the damn hairy thing moved. I didn't sleep in my bedroom for two nights after that. Following that they were in the car above my head. Then in some tracksuit pants my sister borrowed from me. I clearly remember lying on my bed when she came in to borrow them. She wondered what was in them, thought it was the drawstring and flicked out a ginormous huntsman. We squealed like piglets. Dad had to come and rescue us. See a pattern here? Spiders terrify me.

* During my pre-labour with my son I walked 2 kms to the supermarket. I was in denial and HAD to go to Coles to pick up my supplies to make labour aid (which subsequently exploded all over my foot in my sister's car on the way to the birth centre). I picked up Sex and the City DVDs on the way home while experiencing intermittent contractions and grimacing at the man serving me who said a little too cheerily "See you on Sunday" - all the while thinking, no, no you won't because you have no idea, but I AM HAVING A BABY RIGHT NOW! PS - I never even drank the damn labour aid.

* When I am nervous I get a rash all over my decolletage and it creeps up my face. Same happens when I drink vodka.

* I hate shoe shopping. I am probably the only woman in the history of mankind to ever say that. I have size 11/12 feet. It doesn't help when I ask for my size shoe and the shop assistant comes back and says, "No I don't have that size, but I've got an 8 or a 9." Well that's really useful, I'll just go either a) dislocate my toes, or bind them and shove those suckers on my feet, or b) chop off my toes.

* I ran away from university when I was 19. I asked this guy who lived in the same building as me to drive me to the train station and to not tell anyone where I had gone. I have no idea for the need for such secrecy, but I went home to my parents and knew I'd never go back to that university. A few days later the RA of the university campus accommodation rang up and asked my parents if they knew where I had gone. Of course they knew, I was at home in my old bedroom. Some people told me I'd regret it. I didn't. I've never looked back.

And six bloggers that I think should step up to bat for the boring yet quirky tagging?

- Hugo & Elsa (Michelle is living my dream life in Tasmania)

- Che & Fidel

- Hoppo Bumpo

- Paper Dolls for Boys (Tracey - I know you have more of this)

- ChoccyBangles

- bugandpop

Play if you want to. Come on. You know you want to.