I have come to the conclusion that this isn’t working.
What isn’t working you ask? Well, it’s the rigid nature of this resolution I forced upon myself.
But you don’t care about that, diary, do you? So let me just write without abandon (what does that mean, anyway? ).
My cat, Chris Brown, just woke me up in the most violent way possible. There I was enjoying the last bits of dawn when sleep is the best. Finishing up a dream that didn’t make sense. In the dream, one of my friends just received a diagnosis that he was Vitamin A deficient. I don’t know what that means for him in real life but I did tell him to eat butternut squash. And orange foods in particular. I don’t know if he listened because this cat started attacking me.
She came up to my side of the bed and started reaching in under the covers, claws extended, she smacked me in the arm. It wasn’t particularly painful and quite frankly, I’m used to it by now so I ignored her. But Chris will not be ignored, oh no sir! She ventured deeper and lunged at my side. My very exposed side and cat punched me in the ribs. Again, if it wasn’t for the claws, not very painful, but the claws got me good.
I’m wide awake now, questioning how we ever got pets in this house. It’s Eve’s fault by the way. So I’m awake and angry, but I can’t be angry because this is just a cat and she’s probably hungry and trying to get my attention. Well, she got it! So I trudge into the kitchen to get her her food. The other cat was just chilling though. He too was hungry but he has m manners. He knows we’ll wake up eventually. But Chris Brown? She wants what she wants when she wants it.
Spoiled is what she is.
You know why cats are annoying sometimes? Well, after waking me up to feed them, they eat like a quarter of a quarter of the food and then run into the same room they drove me from and you know what they do? They go to sleep. On my side of the bed! So I can’t even go back to bed (and honestly if I did I couldn’t sleep anyway- once I’m awake, I’m awake).
Now it’s six in the morning and I have nothing to do but lay on this couch, sand still in my eyes, and type this out on my phone real quick before I remember that I don’t really want to write. I’m on autopilot. I still feel the claws in my side.