Once upon a time (last night), there was a little artist (short, I'm short) who found a bed that was just right........OK, I'm just goofin' around as our own Canadian genius comic Cathy Jones would say. Lately though, my nights have taken on the stuff of fairy tale story. Here's what happens. As I ready for sleep in my comfy queen sized bed (remember this > queen sized) Jams curls up at the side of the bed sort of beside me on the edge of the bed. I read for a while or look at a painting until I feel sleep approaching and then snap off the light. Sometime later, when I'm deeply asleep, Jams makes her move. She climbs on top of me - I sleep sort of curled up on my side - and snuggles in half draped over my stomach and side....still on top, mind, and purring (I guess this is her idea of a bed 'just right'). Now, a cat has a normal temperature of 103 degrees, so when I slowly come awake, it's to the impression I have a heavy vibrating lump of lava slowly crushing me. When I finally figure out it's Jams, I lie there at first, getting more and more uncomfortable but unwilling to disturb her (and that statement really shows just how insane this whole thing is). I slowly roll myself out from under her, thereby ending up in about a 6 inch space of mattress by the wall with about 6 inches of blanket left with the wind whistling up my BB butt.
And I get more and more pissed off at what is going on until either I finally get it that I actually am the human in charge here and move back into my space in the middle of the bed or Jams wakes up and goes off for her nightly 3 a.m. snack.
A ten pound, sixteen inch tyrant........
*sigh*
Painting is 'Cat' by Andy Warhol
No comments:
Post a Comment