desperance (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
desperance) wrote2006-08-02 11:04 am
desperance) wrote2006-08-02 11:04 am
(no subject)
So after weeks, nay, months of waking at 6am to be at work by seven, suddenly the pattern is broken: yesterday I slept till 7.30, this morning it was 8.30. Which would be all well and good, if it weren't for the fact that I'd spent half the night awake, both nights. Which, after weeks nay months of being so tired that I really did sleep in those hours set aside for same, is an unwelcome return to previous behaviours. Maybe I should just work more.
Still, there are compensations. I was so restless last night that Himself came in to see me. We played pounce through the duvet (and yes, this is a little like making love through a bedsheet, but I need the protection or I just bleed too much), and then, mirabile dictu, he snuggled up to my near hind leg and went to sleep. And we were both still there this morning.
Oh, and I forgot to mention that we had thunderstorms and phenomenal rain yesterday, and Himself was out in it. For about 0.5 seconds. He flew into the kitchen like a startled shuttlecock: very hard, and kind of fluffed-up, and braking to a saunter in mid-air. I cracked up.
Still, there are compensations. I was so restless last night that Himself came in to see me. We played pounce through the duvet (and yes, this is a little like making love through a bedsheet, but I need the protection or I just bleed too much), and then, mirabile dictu, he snuggled up to my near hind leg and went to sleep. And we were both still there this morning.
Oh, and I forgot to mention that we had thunderstorms and phenomenal rain yesterday, and Himself was out in it. For about 0.5 seconds. He flew into the kitchen like a startled shuttlecock: very hard, and kind of fluffed-up, and braking to a saunter in mid-air. I cracked up.
no subject
Grey cat is a viscious, spitting ball of teeth and claws, but every night comes and snuggles on my chest, with his feet (or "tat-tats" as he prefers it) tucked into my beard and purrs like a Bentley until sleep overtakes one or the other of us.
By the time I wake up, he has mysteriously transmogrified (pun intended) into Black Cat - position unchanged.
BTW, how's the shoulder Chaz? No longer weeping I hope. (I manfully resisted both "festering" and "suppurating")
no subject
I have a bear called Rambo - well, actually Rimbaud, but he's easily confused.
Morphing cats. That is so cool. They swap skins while you sleep.
All of these are good words. The open sore (as it were) is getting smaller, thanks, on a daily basis; but it is still sore, and it does still weep after my bath. How fascinating my body is. No wonder the world is watching.