Daysleeper

Warning: this post mentions puke. If you are faint-hearted, look away. Look away!

It seems that lately I am having a bit of trouble with my sleeping patterns. Any of you that know me offline know that I often brag that I am a sound sleeper, an eight-hour kinda gal that never has trouble either going to sleep or staying asleep. I pride myself on the fact that once I find a comfortable position, that's the way you will find me the next morning. Seriously, I sleep so soundly that I never even move at night. Sure helps when making the bed, straighten the covers and go.

However, lately everyone around Chez Ragged is a bit restless and I think I have fallen prey to their insanity also. I am not quite ready to snuggle in at my designated bed time and therefore I am really dragging in the morning.

This morning Cynical, a chronic non-sleeper, was up very, very early unable to catch some shut-eye himself. I stayed in bed, thinking I could just stick it out and sleep until the alarm went off. Apparently I am not a wise woman, as this thinking proved very, very wrong.

Ike began by walking across the pillow repeatedly, standing on and therefore pulling my hair. Cooper, the next one at bat, began a licking spree sure to awaken his dear owner. After swatting and shooing, he finally gave up.

Victory was achieved at last by the double-team of Izzie and Cynical. Cynical, first up, began by opening and closing cabinets, igniting the gas stove and talking to the other cats. Izzie, however, closed the deal all on her own: she began wrenching and gagging on the bed, a sure sign that soon she would spew kitty puke. Izzie is either a buliminic or simply eats too much, so from time to time she is prone to this sort of thing, but never, ever on the bed.

I jumped up fearing the worst and tossed my dear little kitty on the floor realizing my chances of a smooth clean-up were much better on the wood floor than the comforter. I was in luck, I was in time, but then left to deal with a pitiful gray kitty and a nasty mess. I trudged down the stairs, got the necessary supplies and trudged back up for eradication of evidence.

Then, determined to get that last hour of sleep, I snuggled back under the covers, denied that any of this had ever happened. No such luck. Izzie, needing motherly love, cuddled up next to me and I spent the next hour worrying that we'd have a repeat occurence.

I am certain as I walked down the stairs that I saw her hi-five Ike and do a little victory dance. Mom is up, let's all go back up and sleep in the warm spot she just vacated.