Sunday, October 05, 2003
 

I just spilled diet Cherry Coke in my lap. That should probably bother me. And yet that would take so much effort.

I'd like to hibernate for a few years now, please. Seriously. All I want to do is sleep.

I whine far too much.

We're reading Of One Blood by Pauline Hopkins for one of my classes. It's freaky in a good way. Thumbs up. It's one expensive little volume, though. Yeeouch.

Alice just meowed and went tearing upstairs. Hmm. I don't follow the workings of the feline mind.

Oh, this is a good one: I woke up around 5:30 last night to some odd noises. I was only half-awake (being under the influence of my nighttime medication, aka "the preciousss") and couldn't collect my thoughts enough to analyze the sounds. I went from bleariness to freaked-outness and was afraid to open my eyes. When I finally did, I looked over the side of the bed, only to see Alice's feather toy lying in the floor next to me. It was like the B horror movie to end all B horror movies:

The heroine awakes to mysterious noises. Terror slowly pervades her consciousness. Warily, she opens her eyes and looks over the side of the bed. Music crescendos. There it is: THE BLUE FEATHER BOA TOY! The horror, the horror!

Forget B movies (though I must confess that I love 'em). It was ever-so-Hitchcock.

She's funny with the feather toy. I'm surprised it took me so long to realize what the sound was (as I said, I was quite out of it; normally I'm a pretty light sleeper, but the medication makes my sleep more solid), as she does this every night. It's a little blue boa-looking thing attached to a plastic rod that's probably about two, two and a half feet long. She drags it upstairs every night and sleeps on it, then she drags it back downstairs during the day. I rarely ever witness her doing this; I suppose that it's equally possible that the feather toy transports itself. It's funny to hear her dragging it up the stairs; it's an awkward burden for a cat to drag around. Sometimes, she fusses at it as she brings it up. Normally, she promptly goes to sleep on it, but last night she apparently just dropped it off and moved on. I guess it was supposed to keep me company while she attended to business downstairs.

She must have finished her errands downstairs at some point, though. When I woke up this morning, I became dimly aware of an object under my arm. I then realized that Alice was curled up next to my side, and I had my arm around her. She was purring madly. Kitties are the best medicine, dontcha know?

Elvisette philosophized at 6:28 PM