Nov 092015
 

Mister Underfoot loves me. I love him, too. Now can I get some sleep?!

Recently, Mister Underfoot has decided that I’m not allowed to sleep for more than a couple hours at a time. I’m not sure what he’s actually doing, because I’m half asleep, but I wake up with his face a half an inch from mine, his whiskers tickling me.

It was cute… at first.

After days of getting a few hours sleep here and there, always waking up to the tickling of his whiskers, the lack of sleep finally caught up with me. Yesterday, I was so exhausted that I couldn’t function anymore. My calves were killing me like they tend to when I stay up too late and I couldn’t concentrate on writing. I decided to take a nap knowing that I wasn’t going to get more than a few hours sleep thanks to the Whisker Bandit, but I needed to get some rest so I could make word count.

As expected, two hours after I fell asleep, the Whisker Bandit struck again. This time I groaned, rolled over and covered my face with the sheet. I wondered why my addled, half asleep brain hadn’t thought of this before. I was just about to drift back off to sleep when Underfoot stepped up on my head and sat down!

A muffled, “Ahhhh!” escaped me as I pushed him off. Now that I’m awake, I realize how lucky I am that he didn’t freak out and leave me a few painful reminders on my face, his new chair. I’m not sure how I wound up on my feet beside the bed, but I must have tossed the covers off and jumped out of bed. Wide awake now, I gave up on sleep and turned on the light to get dressed. This is what I saw…

underfoot-glare

I don’t know how he wound up wrapped up in the quilt. Maybe it happened when I tossed the covers off or maybe he crawled in there. I couldn’t tell if he was mad at me or if his feelings were hurt. I grabbed my phone and took this pic while explaining to him I wasn’t mad at him, but my face was not a proper place to sit. He just glared.

As I type this he’s in his normal place, on top of my arm trying to prevent me from getting anything done. He’s fifteen pounds of bulk and muscle, but he feels more like fifty. So, he’s not mad at me anymore, he never stays mad for long, and I hope he’s learned his lesson about sitting on my head, but I don’t hold out much hope for more than a few hours of sleep anytime soon.

I wonder if I burn more calories typing with his extra weight on my arm. New writer’s workout? Strengthen your arms and burn extra calories! All natural cat weights!

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