The secret lives of cats
So, as a good lot of you saw on Saturday, I have quite the sunburn. And I gotta tell you, it's hilarious, what with the seatbelt tan line across my chest. But it also hurts like a motherfucker. Still, three days later. And part of my skin has bubbled. Ew.
I've been spritzing myself with lidocaine and aloe during the day, and then dusting with cornstarch to keep from sticking to myself, I've got soy skin repair cream in the afternoons, and cider vinegar compresses in the evenings. And then I pass out from the toxic fume cloud emanating from Cleve-land.
The worst part, though? Trying to sleep. See, I'm a stomach sleeper, always have been. Side and back sleeping is impossible, unless I'm so exhausted my body just stops in mid-bed-turn. So, I inevitably try to flip to my stomach in bed and then wake up ready to scream because the sheets feel like they're covered in thumbtacks. So I turn back over and try to sleep on my back; but just end up laying in bed with my eyes closed, concentrating on my breathing to attempt to meditate myself into somnolence.
And this is when I discovered the nightly training sessions of SUPER NINJA MURDER CAT. Who knew? By day (and really, by most of the night, too), the Big Man is a loaf of cat. He hangs out, he ambles to and from the food dish, and he is really content to just lay by you. Except at sometime around 5 am. Two nights ago, he took laps from the front door of my apartment, to the back door of my apartment, across the bed and to the bedroom window, and then back to the front door. The "bed" part was basically a jump up, a leap over the queen size, and a four-point landing on the other side. This went on for about a half hour.
Early this morning, I awoke to find the Big Man attempting to CLIMB THE BEDROOM WINDOW via the sills. He jumped from the floor to the ledge, and then clawed his way up the paperboard. When that didn't work, he leapfrogged me about sixteen times before trying to climb the identically structured living room window.
The best part of all of this? When he's done with his nightly training, he just saunters back to the pillow next to mine and curls up asleep, just like he was before, that sneaky feline bastard.
I've been spritzing myself with lidocaine and aloe during the day, and then dusting with cornstarch to keep from sticking to myself, I've got soy skin repair cream in the afternoons, and cider vinegar compresses in the evenings. And then I pass out from the toxic fume cloud emanating from Cleve-land.
The worst part, though? Trying to sleep. See, I'm a stomach sleeper, always have been. Side and back sleeping is impossible, unless I'm so exhausted my body just stops in mid-bed-turn. So, I inevitably try to flip to my stomach in bed and then wake up ready to scream because the sheets feel like they're covered in thumbtacks. So I turn back over and try to sleep on my back; but just end up laying in bed with my eyes closed, concentrating on my breathing to attempt to meditate myself into somnolence.
And this is when I discovered the nightly training sessions of SUPER NINJA MURDER CAT. Who knew? By day (and really, by most of the night, too), the Big Man is a loaf of cat. He hangs out, he ambles to and from the food dish, and he is really content to just lay by you. Except at sometime around 5 am. Two nights ago, he took laps from the front door of my apartment, to the back door of my apartment, across the bed and to the bedroom window, and then back to the front door. The "bed" part was basically a jump up, a leap over the queen size, and a four-point landing on the other side. This went on for about a half hour.
Early this morning, I awoke to find the Big Man attempting to CLIMB THE BEDROOM WINDOW via the sills. He jumped from the floor to the ledge, and then clawed his way up the paperboard. When that didn't work, he leapfrogged me about sixteen times before trying to climb the identically structured living room window.
The best part of all of this? When he's done with his nightly training, he just saunters back to the pillow next to mine and curls up asleep, just like he was before, that sneaky feline bastard.