Archived in 2022

Originally posted on 28 May 2008

It’s been about two weeks since we were struck by the Attack of the Weak Geriatric Feline Bladder and we’ve been sleeping on the couch since then. The two of us. Human and feline. Normally feline curled up on top of human. Pinning human into an uncomfortable position on an even more uncomfortable antique sofa.

No more! Almost…

Tomorrow a new mattress is delivered! To my door! To my very bedroom! Sorry, I mean to our very bedroom. Sure, the new mattress isn’t as high of quality as the one its replacing but at least the new one hasn’t been liberally doused in cat pee. That counts for a lot. In truth it counts for everything at this moment. Ev-er-y-thing. All. Todo. The entire frickin’ enchilada.

It’s hard to express how thrilled I am at the idea of getting to sleep in a bed tomorrow night. Here I am, the day before, deeply wallowing in a fantasy about sleeping in my own bedroom in my own bed with my own pillows and blankets and comforters and the Sony alarm clock and its three alarms waking me up three different times in the morning rather than my cellphone and its shrill tune. Bliss. And the space! The acres and acres of sleeping space I’ll have! To be able to roll over in the middle of the night without risk of squishing or dislodging the feline, thus allowing us to have more precious quality sleeping minutes! It all sends shivers of anticipation down my spine, I don’t mind saying.

If you’ll excuse me now, I need to go back to the bedroom and prepare it for the imminent delivery. I may cackle in anticipatory glee while I do so. Never has human so enjoyed cleaning its bedroom. 🙂