I don't know about wonderful, but I certainly do have some weird for you...namely, myself...more specifically the stupid things that happen to me.
If you've been following this blog for any length of time, you probably already know that my psycho cat, Aslan, likes to yowl in high definition surround sound, at the top of his little kitty lungs whenever I try to sleep. He's been doing this for five years now, so before some of you start saying crap like 'It's worse if you have a a real child'...don't...or I will punch you right in the mouth....
....where was I?...
oh, yeah. My holy terror of a ginger haired fluff ball...
Normally I go to bed around 3am and wake up around 9am (such is the life of the professionally unemployed), but yesterday I made an effort to wake up around 7am...and by midnight I was ready to crash. As soon as my head hit the pillow I was dead to the world.
You may recall that I have very vivid, very delightful dreams quite often...last night was no exception. My mind was giving me a treat that engaged almost all of my senses (I don't recall if I could smell anything) with a delicious dream involving me, a certain Time Lord, a jar of nutella, and a dining room table. We were just getting to a rather juicy bit when something huge knocked me in the face...and no, it was not The Doctor's pulsating...erm...'sonic screwdriver'. It was Aslan. My huge, Maine Coon, pain in the ass, furry ball of yowling fury. His voice began to hit octaves that shatter glass (and I'm sure he's the true reason I have a constant ringing in one of my ears). It took me a moment to get my bearings straight, and realize what was going on....he started yowling louder...which I had previously thought was impossible. A few moments later, I wearily sat up and threw my legs over the side of the bed.
...that's when I noticed that my equilibrium was screwed all to hell.
One thing about Aslan that you need to know before I go any further, is that when he wants out he does a particular little ritual. First he'll run to the door and paw at it. If that goes unnoticed, the yowling begins. The angry 'wails' progressively get louder and closer together...and then he'll start jumping from my bed to any flat surface in my room and back again. If that goes unnoticed he'll try to rip the blinds from my window. When he finally gets my attention, and I walk to the door to take him out...instead of coming to the door (where he wants to go!!!!!), he runs to the window...which is currently behind a stack of huge tubs (most of my stuff is still packed up). He makes me chase after him...which, after all he's done to get me to let him out, is the straw that sometimes breaks the camel's back.
Last night, after discovering that I couldn't walk a straight line to save my life, I shuffled across my room to scoop the yowling maniac out of the window and do his bidding. Weaving my way back across the room (my head feeling as if it were on some twirly ride at the devil's carnival) I managed to step on something hard and sharp with the outer part of the ball of my right foot. Now I'm hobbling...trying not to curse too loudly, juggling a huge, squirming, pissed off cat...with a spinning sensation going on in my head...in the dark. Reaching down, I felt around on my foot ( imagine me on one foot now) to see what I could have possibly stepped on, and I realize that whatever it is is attached to a piece of clothing. Inching, painfully, over to the light switch, I turn on the lights and after a moment of painful blindness, I realize what's sticking out of my foot....one of the hooks from one of my bras.
....let me repeat that for you...a hook...from a bra...was buried in my foot!!!!!!
...I'm sure these things only happen to me.
As gently as possible, I removed the hook, pried open my door (quick fact: when I close my door, I'm locked in my room. I can either get someone to open it from the outside, or I can use an old credit card to jimmy it open. Sometimes this takes a while...and I was still holding the angry Lord Aslan), and made my way through the pitch black house. Now I'm still half asleep, my head feels like a spinning top on acid, and my foot is throbbing and bleeding...I'm trying to be as quiet as possible so that I do not wake the others in the house...but I keep running into walls and furniture...and what's worse is that I kept apologizing to the walls and furniture.
I finally deposited the pissed off feline on the back porch and limped back to my room. Part of my brain wanted me to check on my foot, but the rest of my brain said, "Fuck you, we're going to bed." When I finally woke up, it was red, throbbing and ugly. I will spare you the details of how I cleaned it up and bandaged it...but it was deep and it's still throbbing. I'm no doctor, but I'm positive it doesn't need stitches...and I am self medicating.
The moral of the story is: Bras are dangerous.
|His Royal Highness|