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If you don’t see a post from me after this one … prime suspect is small & grey

sleep

 

I slept on the downstairs couch last night with a dog at my feet and a cat on my back (literally).  I haven’t seen a human since Friday.  One more night then I get to return to my little home.

It’s funny isn’t it?  How quickly we miss our routine – our space and obviously our loved ones.

Why did I sleep on the couch?   I was a little concerned that if I was too comfortable, I’d not hear my alarm.  There’s an hour time difference between where I’m staying and where I work.  I had to be up at O’Dark Thirty.

Another reason?  The home is big and to be honest, I didn’t want to be upstairs in a bedroom and hear something creak or move in the night.  lol.  I figure if a serial killer was to enter the house, I’d be able to leap off the couch and to the closest weapon dispensary (the kitchen) if I stayed downstairs.

Turns out it would have been a little tough ‘leaping’ though as I was pinned down most of the night by Plucky.  She’s … um, I’m trying to find a kind way to describe an overly affectionate, needy, clueless cat.  She just will not take a hint.  And as much as I adore her – I woke several times to her either a) on my bladder or b) with her nose on my lips as she perched on my chest.  Thus why I turned onto my stomach to sleep.

 

annoy cat

 

The other felines are pretty relaxed.

But there’s the constant threat of one of them getting out.  I lost TWO cats over the weekend.  First time was Foo and it took FOREVER outside shaking the treat container to get him back inside.  Lost him again the next day, but only briefly.  And then Plucky.  *sigh*

You see, Meesha, the pup, can open the screen door from the outside and god forbid I’ve gone to use the bathroom or in another part of the house when she decides to let herself back in.  I found the screen open twice yesterday and had to do a frantic head count.

It’s a dance.  The whole operation of the home is a choreographed dance.

And you’d better know all the moves – even if you’re sleep deprived from a night of attempted smothering.

 

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Sleep deprived Buttery post

I could have sworn it was Saturday this morning.  It really ought to have been.  Nic was off for ‘April break’.  What IS that?  And why is it only one day? 

Anyway – I slept like a baby last night.  Woke up every 2 hours upset with something or another.  Not quite screaming.

Drama + Butters + Sinus Tachycardia + son chatting on his ipad = no Z’s.

(I mean, he was seriously chatting – full on – carrying his conversation buddy around the house. In a moment of delirium, I actually thought a girl was in the bloody kitchen with him.  Then I sussed it out.)

ANYWAY (she says again, and this time she means it)

My pitter pattering heart has been trying out all kinds of fun new ways to present itself to me lately.  ‘Ben Gay like warmth’ feeling … left armpit pain … then last night, it got sassy on the drums … brrrrrrrrm, burr, brrr-bump.  And then something in my chest grabbed a tambourine and started showing off.

A friend taught me to cough to get myself back into rhythm – so I lay there, coughing like a dork.

THEN there’s Butters.  Oh Butters. 

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Don’t let this image fool you.  She does. not. sleep!

For two weeks or so – every few hours from 9pm until my alarm goes off at 6am (not that it’s had a chance to go off for the last week), she stands inches from my face and whines and wags. 

I get up, let her out – and then leave the flipping front door open so she can get back in. 

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You see the crack?  And you’ve seen her nose – so seriously, WHY can’t she ‘nose’ her way back out?!?!  She sure as hell can do it when a cat walks w/in a mile of the house.

I might as well just put an ad on Craig’s List inviting any local wackos or serial killers to my insanely unsecure house at night.

“Come on in! Doors open!  I’ll just be in my room, trying to sleep.  Be as quiet as possible when you kill me.” 

Why does she sleep inside?  Our fence is chicken wire basically … I think intended for really apathetic, frail chickens.  And we have coyotes out and about. 

In between the fun excursions to the flipping door – the tiny snatches of sleep I grabbed onto, (which, resulted in nightmares) Waking up to Nic church mousin’ around the house and my heart getting all excited, I woke up (pffft … didn’t really ‘wake up’ so much as ‘give up’) none too pleased.

I tried to have a chat with her.

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She didn’t care.  She assures me she’ll be doing it tonight too.  And the night after that, and the night after that. 

And the thought occurred … when she’s older, and not energetic  – probably I’ll miss the spry insomniac that she used to be.