Say one thing about the changing weather, say it affects animals most oddly.
Case in point my dearly beloved cat, who had donned a cloak most saintly during winters only to shed it and turn into something wholeheartedly demonic.
I slept mostly fitfully during those crisp winter months when the feline darling didn't dare venture out nor fling his person from the cottony hillocks of my thick duvet about the house in nocturnal rampage as cats are usually wont to. Instead, he silently munched his meal before folding into a furry mound of slumbering pussy, tucking seamlessly between the warmth of my body and the covering of fat blanket, and now that the weather is all sorts of pleasant with sunshine and cool breeze, the little bastard sleeps in a coma throughout the day, perched in odd places about the architecture and turns into an entity most cutely beguiling at night. Sleep is as far away from his mind as the sun from this planet and he derives some sadistic pleasure from torturing me throughout the night by waking me up at odd hours for food, even though he's been fed and not once but in intervals of every couple hours, completely disregarding the fact that his bowl still has some food.
If not that then waking me up to play with him, to run after him in a grotesque fashion of nightly hide and seek, where I, a zombie, try to chase him out of the house while he, a goddamn asshole, runs about ducking under couches and beds, evading me and when in a final vexation of anger and exasperation I lock him out of the bedroom to get some sleep, he meows in a voice most pitiful, resounding with a need to be loved and so dismal are his meows that even though I kow I'm going to get fooled into his tricks I open the door only to have him scurry away in an invitation to play his games.
When finally I catch him and throw him out of the house, he looks up at me in that similar touching, almost hurt eyes that I begin feeling like a monster and knowing full well that he's only going to annoy me once back in the house I let him, to have the entire night repeat itself and did I tell you the clock reads 2:30 am, and this continues till nearly five when I finally fling the fucker out with nary a remorse and fall back into deep deep sleep because by the heavens my body almost feels like it's breaking in places.
I just don't get it. It's been two nights and I'm functioning on fumes.
There has to be a way out of this and I will find it.
More updates on this soon.
Case in point my dearly beloved cat, who had donned a cloak most saintly during winters only to shed it and turn into something wholeheartedly demonic.
I slept mostly fitfully during those crisp winter months when the feline darling didn't dare venture out nor fling his person from the cottony hillocks of my thick duvet about the house in nocturnal rampage as cats are usually wont to. Instead, he silently munched his meal before folding into a furry mound of slumbering pussy, tucking seamlessly between the warmth of my body and the covering of fat blanket, and now that the weather is all sorts of pleasant with sunshine and cool breeze, the little bastard sleeps in a coma throughout the day, perched in odd places about the architecture and turns into an entity most cutely beguiling at night. Sleep is as far away from his mind as the sun from this planet and he derives some sadistic pleasure from torturing me throughout the night by waking me up at odd hours for food, even though he's been fed and not once but in intervals of every couple hours, completely disregarding the fact that his bowl still has some food.
If not that then waking me up to play with him, to run after him in a grotesque fashion of nightly hide and seek, where I, a zombie, try to chase him out of the house while he, a goddamn asshole, runs about ducking under couches and beds, evading me and when in a final vexation of anger and exasperation I lock him out of the bedroom to get some sleep, he meows in a voice most pitiful, resounding with a need to be loved and so dismal are his meows that even though I kow I'm going to get fooled into his tricks I open the door only to have him scurry away in an invitation to play his games.
When finally I catch him and throw him out of the house, he looks up at me in that similar touching, almost hurt eyes that I begin feeling like a monster and knowing full well that he's only going to annoy me once back in the house I let him, to have the entire night repeat itself and did I tell you the clock reads 2:30 am, and this continues till nearly five when I finally fling the fucker out with nary a remorse and fall back into deep deep sleep because by the heavens my body almost feels like it's breaking in places.
I just don't get it. It's been two nights and I'm functioning on fumes.
There has to be a way out of this and I will find it.
More updates on this soon.
