Once upon a time, I was a Nice Person. I’d smile politely while someone explained my own diagnosis to me. I’d hold the door open for strangers and wait while they slowly shuffled through, unbothered. I’d listen to that one friend monologue about her sugar detox while I silently wondered if I could fake my own death to get out of the conversation.
But that version of me is gone. She perished somewhere between the fifth unsolicited wellness tip and the third time someone said, “But you don’t look sick.”
And in her place? A delightfully irritable, short-fused, boundary-setting badass who no longer has time for bullshit, big or small. This is my official Villain Era™, and it’s sponsored by chronic illness, menopause, and a bottomless vat of nope.
So, without further ado, here’s a lovingly curated list of Things I No Longer Have Patience For:
1. Loud Chewers & Public Speakerphone Users
If your jaw sounds like gravel in a washing machine, or you’re broadcasting your break-up on speakerphone in public — congratulations, you’re the reason I believe in selective extinction.
2. The Door You Left Open
Did you not feel that icy blast? Is your soul so shrivelled you think we enjoy sudden indoor tornadoes? Close the damn door before I throw a salt lamp at you.
3. Unsolicited Advice from Non-Experts
Unless you’ve lived in this meat-suit and have a PhD in neurology, keep your spirulina suppository and moon-water testimonials to yourself. I’m not your pet project. I’m just trying to buy avocados in peace. Keep your seaweed smoothie cure to yourself. And no, Susan, yoga will not reverse brain lesions.
4. The Phrase “You Don’t Look Sick”
Well, you do look stupid, so I guess we’re even.
5. The Cult of Beige Instagram Moms
If your child has a capsule wardrobe and your playroom has mood lighting, I assume your soul has been traded for engagement. Let those kids wear Crocs and chaos like the rest of us.
6. “Everything Happens for a Reason”
Unless that reason is “you’re a carbon-based life form on a rapidly decaying planet,” keep it to yourself. Some things are just… shitty.
7. People Sitting Next to Me When There Are 100 Other Empty Seats
This isn’t a hostage situation; you have options. And yet you chose my airspace? I didn’t survive a pandemic just to share elbow room with your tuna wrap. Why. Just why. Are you okay? Blink twice if you’re in distress.
8. Trad Wives Cosplaying the 1950s (Badly)
You want to obey your husband and churn butter on camera? Go wild. But don’t pretend your ring-light lifestyle is actual tradition. Real trad wives didn’t have OnlyFans. (me-owe!)
9. Chronic Illness Gatekeepers
If you’ve ever said “just be positive” to someone in pain, I hope you step on a Lego every Monday morning for the remainder of your time here.
10. Mainsplainers & Creepy Flirters
I used to nod. Now I say “That’s creepy AF dude” and walk away while maintaining eye contact.
11. People Who Know Me Better Than I Do
Newsflash: I’ve been in this body a while. I don’t need you to explain my symptoms, my limits, or my mood swings. Especially not during peri-fucking-menopause.
12. Covid Opinions
Still? We’re still doing this? Pass.
13. Thieves of Parking Spaces
That space was mine. I will trap you in. I will go Fried Green Tomatoes on your bumper. Do not test the rage of a middle-aged woman with perimenopause and pain.
I don’t know if this list makes me petty, evolved, or simply tired, but it feels delicious to get it out. There’s a joy in drawing the line. In saying “no thanks” without apologising. In laughing at how little crap I’m willing to take these days.
And maybe that’s what real healing looks like.
Your turn: what’s something you no longer have patience for? Drop it in the comments. Let’s be gloriously petty together.
Art, history, and community are on the chopping block.
The Rust-en-Vrede Gallery in Durbanville is under threat—and it’s not going down without a fight.
First, the bad news
After 40+ years as a safe haven for artists, students, and clay-splattered dreamers, the Rust-en-Vrede Gallery and Clay Museum has been told: pay commercial rent or pack up.
The City of Cape Town, current owner of the heritage site, has terminated its service-level agreement with the gallery, withdrawing financial support and shifting toward a rental model. In plain speak, they want a non-profit cultural space to start footing bills like it’s a boutique hotel.
If they can’t afford the rent, they lose the building.
If they lose the building, we all lose.
The community fights back
The gallery has launched a Change.org petition to appeal to the City and rally public support. It’s not just artists signing, it’s grandparents, teachers, students, and historians. Anyone who’s walked through those cool white walls and felt something old and sacred stir beneath the layers of paint and glaze.
“This is not just a building,” says the gallery in the TygerBurger article. “It’s a space where creativity, heritage, and community intersect.”
And they’re right. You don’t bulldoze a heartbeat.
What makes Rust-en-Vrede irreplaceable?
Let’s talk legacy:
Built in the 1840s, it served as a jail, courthouse, and police HQ before becoming a National Monument in 1984.
In 1981, it was rescued by the Durbanville Cultural Society, who transformed it into the sanctuary we know today.
It houses three professional exhibition spaces, the only dedicated Clay Museum in the country, an artist-run Cube Gallery, and multiple working studios and classrooms.
It has hosted thousands of local and international artists, including the winners of the South African Portrait Award, which it founded in 2013.
It is open to the public, inclusive, and education-driven, regularly offering school tours, workshops, and community classes.
And it does all this as a non-profit, largely volunteer-driven.
The City didn’t make this place thrive. The people did.
Follow the money
According to TygerBurger, the City argues that “policy has changed” and the lease must now reflect current “norms.” But this policy shift places a one-size-fits-all rental expectation onto a historic, cultural space whose purpose was never commercial.
The gallery has asked to remain under a service-level agreement, or for the building to be transferred to the community trust that’s maintained it since the ‘80s.
So far? No answer.
This isn’t just a gallery. It’s a story.
I don’t know about you, but I’d rather see this space protected than watch another strip mall bloom on the bones of something beautiful.
Art is not a luxury. Neither is memory. Art is a necessity.
We live in a time where stories are disappearing, swallowed up by algorithms, fast food franchises, and short-term thinking. Rust-en-Vrede tells a slow story. A deep one. One where kids learn to paint, retired nurses discover sculpture, and young artists hang their first work on an actual wall instead of just posting it online.
It would be easier if this were just a sad little gallery in a forgotten part of town. But it’s not. It’s alive. Still. Barely. And whether it stays that way depends on what we do now.
You don’t get many second chances with places like this.
Life lately? Bit of a circus, honestly. The kind where you’re both the juggler and the flaming hoops. I’ve been playing defence (is that the right phrase? I’m South African, so I dunno, insert a rugby version here). Point is, it’s been A Lot™.
Work has slowed down to a crawl. Thank you, AI overlords. Thank you, Canva. Thank you, Wix. Apparently, if you can drag and drop a rectangle onto a screen, you no longer need two decades of actual design experience. I’m thrilled.
And here’s the thing: I’ve hit that midlife shift, the one no one warns you about, where you just stop caring about being impressive or polished or “professional.” I’m tired of being the safe, dependable designer who always colours inside the lines (and yes, I’m still good at it and will obviously continue to do it, but something in me is itching for more). I want to smash some rules. I want to do some design that bites. I want to make something so bold it makes a marketing exec spill their Triple-Foamed Almond-Oat-Cashew-Matcha-Chai-Latte™ or whatever the latest Plant-Based Personality Beverage™ is trending right now. I want to shred the PowerPoint and play the guitar solo that ends with me setting the stage on fire.
Physically, I’m okay if “okay” means cocooned under 6 blankets, trying to weigh up the pros and cons of getting up to pee. The bathroom is approximately the temperature of Neptune. I am seriously contemplating whether a SheWee is a worthwhile winter investment. If anyone wants to sponsor one, I’ll write a full review, just saying.
In other news, Bugsy recently found and swallowed what can only be described as a decomposing pelt from the Upside Down Pet Buffet. I couldn’t stop him, because, well, MS. Now he’s groaning and on kibble lockdown. He’ll do it again. We both know it.
Other recent obsessions include: – Nutritional yeast (I don’t even know who I am anymore, but this stuff is gooooood). – Cinnamon. In everything. I’m basically a sentient chai. – The fantasy of watching trash TV with a giant mug of lactose-free, sugar-free hot choc and zero obligations.
On the “doing things because I have to, not because I want to” list: • Looking for work • Doing work • Starting 7 side hustles because bills • Also, doing dishes (or rather, avoiding them entirely)
My soul? Currently on a hunger strike. All it wants is to make weird, beautiful things: paint, write, doodle, sing to plants, get lost in a good audiobook (if I could actually find one narrated by someone who doesn’t sound like a robot or a smug yoga teacher).
Also, if my body could leave me a Post-it note, it would say: “I’m in spasm. I’m twitching like a haunted doll. Please sort this out.”
A few other thoughts, while we’re here: I’ve irrationally decided that my long, tangled hair is now my entire identity and also the enemy and needs the chop.
My autobiography title this week is How I Turned Into a Pot Plant and Suffered My Own Neglect.
Speaking of plants, I watered two of them recently, and they’re thriving. Who knew that water helps? Revolutionary.
That’s where I’m at. Tired. Unapologetically salty. Creatively starved. But weirdly hopeful that something good will take root if I just keep showing up. Maybe a little scrappy. Maybe not polished. But real.
Let’s see what grows.
— Kate
Bugsy says he won’t eat anything dead and unidentifiable this week… if you buy us a coffee: buymeacoffee.com/kateandginger
This weeks’s productivity level: 2/10 , but my plants are alive, so.
Mood-Support Beverage™ of the Week:Existential Crampuccino™, spicy, bitter, best served in bed.
Unsolicited Product Endorsement:This entry is not sponsored by SheWee™, but it should be.
Bugsy’s Digestive Adventures™: This week’s highlight: decomposing pelt from the Upside Down™ Pet Buffet.
Bugsy says he won’t eat anything dead and unidentifiable next week… if you buy us a coffee: buymeacoffee.com/kateandginger
I’ll admit: I used to dismiss popcorn as movie-theater junk food; big tubs drowning in butter and salt and chemicals. But plain ol’ air‑popped popcorn is a stealth health champion. Hear me out.
1. Whole grain + fiber = hunger assassin
Popcorn is 100% whole grain. Just 1 oz (about 3½ cups popped, approximately 110 calories) gives you ~4 g fiber and ~4 g protein. That’s enough to satisfy you way more than 150 calories of chips, the kind of snack that doesn’t even slow your cravings. In fact, six cups of low‑fat popcorn curbed hunger better than a single serving of potato chips in lab studies.
2. Volume eating: eat more, weigh less
Because it’s so airy and voluminous, you can munch a big bowl of popcorn without pouring on calories. Plain air‑popped popcorn gives you ~30 calories per cup, meaning you can eat 3 cups for under 100 calories. A Cleveland Clinic nutritionist noted not only is it low in calories, but it also aids weight loss, thanks to ferulic acid, a polyphenol that might help combat obesity.
3. Antioxidants = bonus health karma
Popcorn isn’t just filler. It contains polyphenols — heart‑friendly, cancer‑fighting antioxidants also found in berries and tea. Ferulic acid, one of those polyphenols, helps reduce inflammation and may stabilise blood sugar and blood pressure. A respected longevity reporter even cosigns: air‑popped popcorn contributes to health and lifespan, via gut, heart, sugar, and cholesterol benefits.
When Popcorn Goes Rogue
Let’s be real: not all popcorn is innocent.
Movie‑theater bags = sodium and saturated fat bombs.
Microwave popcorn? Sometimes harmless, sometimes a chemical soup; diacetyl (behind “popcorn lung”) isn’t always present, but some manufacturers cut it out, and there’s worry over ultrafine particles.
Pre‑popped/packaged options? Many are loaded with oil, sugar, salt; read that label!
DIY Hacks: Make It Work
Best way: Air‑pop it
Use an air popper or the classic brown‑bag microwave trick. Three cups = ~95 calories, per Mayo Clinic Health.
Healthier fluff & flavour hacks
• Spray with olive oil, not pour. • Season: yeast flakes, chili + lime, garlic + parmesan, cinnamon + nutmeg, curry dust. Mayo Clinic has a lineup of combo ideas. • Skip the butter. If you must, use no more than 1 tsp melted, it’s enough to get taste, not guilt .
Popcorn Habit Tips
Measure it. One cup = ~10–15 g popped, 30 cal.
Portion it into snack-sized bowls or storage containers.
Pair with protein (Greek yogurt? nuts? cottage cheese) for meal-satiety boosters.
Keep cooking tools visible; having kernels and poppers out makes easy snacking inevitable.
Wrap‑Up: Popcorn Isn’t Just Movie Fuel
This is popcorn reimagined: a humble, crunchy, versatile snack that’s actually your ally in fullness and better health. It’s not going to melt belly fat by magic, but it will help tame your appetite, cut mindless junk-food tendencies, and maybe sneak you some polyphenols while you’re at it.
So next time the snack itch hits, skip the chips and crack open a bowl. Your body and your jeans might thank you.
What about you, how do you doctor your popcorn? Ever tried something wild like buffalo-sriracha or nutritional-yeast‑cheese? Let’s hear your flavour hacks.
Step away from the plastic fern, darling—real, breathing greenery is easier than you think.
Why My Plants Used to File for Restraining Orders
True confession: I once crisped a peace lily so badly it looked like biltong. I blamed “black thumb genetics” until I learned that some plants actually like benign neglec, and many are sold right here in Mzansi through Takealot, Builders, and every Saturday-morning market between Durbanville and Durban. Research backs it up: species such as snake plant and pothos not only survive dim flats but actively scrub indoor air of volatile nasties.
Ready to stop the botanical bloodshed? Meet my magnificent seven.
What it wants: One cup of water a month, maybe a compliment every quarter. Drama factor: 1/10. You could forget it behind the couch for a season; it would merely smirk and photosynthesise. NASA’s famous clean-air study put snake plants near the top for formaldehyde removal. Buy it: R 170 for a 17 cm pot at Cape Garden Centre (ships nationwide).
2 | ZZ Plant (Zamioculcas zamiifolia)—The Zen Master
What it wants: Low light, sporadic watering, zero gossip. Why you’ll love it: Glossy leaves that look polished even when Eskom doesn’t power the polish cloth. Garden writers rank it among the hardiest “set-and-forget” options. Buy it: R 200 via Happy Life Plants; arrives swaddled like a newborn.
3 | Golden Pothos (Epipremnum aureum)—The Over-Achiever
What it wants: Anything from bright-ish corner to bookshelf gloom. Party trick: Trails of variegated leaves that forgive missed waterings the way Labradors forgive bad tennis-ball throws. Extension experts call pothos “excellent for beginners.” Buy it: 15 cm hanging basket, R 140 on Plantify, just unbox, hang, and brag.
What it wants: Occasional sunbeam, weekly sip. Why it’s cool: Shoots out baby “spiderettes” you can pot up and gift (or keep, no judgment). Featured in 2025 “fast-growing houseplants” round-ups for good reason. Buy it: R 150 from Botanical Heaven, comes with two free offspring already dangling.
5 | Peace Lily (Spathiphyllum spp.)—The Drama Queen (But in a Good Way)
What it wants: Dappled light, evenly moist soil. Life hack: Leaves droop when thirsty, then bounce back after watering, built-in reminder for the forgetful. South-African supermarket Woollies sells a 14 cm specimen for under R 140.
6 | Aloe Vera—The Medic
What it wants: Bright light, sandy soil, the odd sunburned human to rescue. Bonus: Gel inside treats minor burns and mosquito bites, first-aid kit on a stem. Gardening mags list aloe among 2025’s “best low-light succulents.” Buy it:Builders Warehouse, R 79 per chunky starter.
What it wants: Indirect light, fortnightly water, occasional leaf-wipe (it’s vain like that). Reward: Insta-worthy glossy foliage that says “I’ve got my life together” even if you’re Googling “load-shedding dinner ideas.” Decofurn sells a 15 cm potted stunner for R 175.00 from Plantify.
Quick-Start Care Plan (No Latin Required)
Light: If you can read without squinting, the plant’s fine.
Water: Finger test, soil dry 3 cm down? Water. Still damp? Step away.
Food: A slow-release pellet every spring; skip if you forget, nobody dies.
Pots: Drainage holes are non-negotiable; saucers catch the guilt.
Do that, and you’ll be the smug friend doling out baby spider plants by Christmas.
