I have a confession to make…
I have caved in to the demands… of less-than-10-pounds of cat.
Here’s what happened: I had not put sheets on my bed in several weeks, mostly because I’m lazy like that but partly because I’d been having trouble sleeping so I had been sleeping on the couch to try to trick myself. So why waste clean sheets on a bed I’m not in? Also, the damn weather is giving my knees fits, so sometimes I’ve been sleeping on the floor with my legs propped up on the furniture (sexy, no?) — and therein lies the problem.
Turns out, Calpurnia Jean does NOT approve of floor-sleeping for any reason whatsoever. So every night, I would have just drifted off when she would emerge from her daytime resting place on Chuckweasel’s pillow and saunter up to me. She would then put her entire nose in one of my nostrils — which wakes one right the hell up, let me tell you! I would pat the blanket beside me in an attempt to get her to lie down, and she would sit there and stare at me for a good few minutes before giving this big huff of a sigh and literally FLINGING herself down next to me in disgust. She would repeat the nostril-staring-huffing process several times a night… and she finally broke me, y’all.
So yesterday evening I washed the sheets and made the bed… while Callie Jean slept on the couch. Seems the couch is okay under certain conditions, but the living room floor is verboten! Maybe because it’s too close to Mouseschwitz? You’d think she’d appreciate having a night guard!
PS — No nougat-stacking on Chuckweasel as he steadfastly refused to fall asleep yesterday, but I did learn an interesting bit of Chuckweasel Trivia: He will not eat “assorted chocolates.” I guess it’s the Forrest Gump Principle (you nevah know whutchoo gonna get), but I find it slightly upsetting. So I made him taste one. And it was butter cream, and he spit it out. And I ate it, ’cause I don’t waste candy, yo. And ’cause I like butter cream.