Cooked in my Sleep

Didn't sleep well last night - the cats are killing me. Pinning me down on both sides so I can't move and turning the bed into a Mongolian BBQ.

I'm convinced that as they sleep their body temperature rises and they can direct that heat wherever they want. They *could* send it into the room and take the chill out of the air, but NO - it's all directed to me.

Last night I woke up in an uncomfortable, sweaty configuration to find the little one smack up against my stomach and the medium-large one behind my knees. It had to be 400 degrees under the covers.

If I do manage to turn over at any time, they reposition and re-pin in moments. Later during the night I woke up on my back with my hands clasped above my head behind the pillow. I had one on either side of me. Even in my sleep, I move my arms out of the way to accommodate them. How the hell are they doing this???

I turn off the heating blanket when I get into bed - I only use it to take the chill off before I get in and David can tell you, I'm no thermogenic wonder. He gets my ice-cold feet on his legs every night. I know they seek out warm snoozing spots, but that generally isn't me.

So that tells me I must smell like chicken wrapped in bacon. Or maybe it's all those times I've moved the cats around the house with my mouth.

Horsey Pill Monday

Neeeeeeeeeeeyyy! [paws ground with her hoof]

While I love me some homeopathy, I'm glad I didn't try to fight this nastiness with 11 herbs and spices. The horror forum was right - cats are the Komodo dragons of our living rooms.

Within just a few hours of the bite, the swelling spread from the wound point across the back of my hand and pinky finger and sweet chocolate christmas, it hurt like a bastard. My left hand has become a throbbing Smithfield ham.

If I weren't on these horsey pills, that damn cat would be waiting for me to drag my diseased body into a corner where he could start gnawing my flesh.

The pharmacist was right about taking them with food. They're a little rough on an empty stomach, resulting in wooziness and stomach cramps. Tonight I followed the dosing directions and wrapped my big pill in an entire pizza. That should do the trick.

Just nine more days of this and I'm cured!

Werekitty Kitty Kitty

Just when you think you've gotten through a rough patch, something else happens and you're dealing with another problem. It's always something.

Yesterday I was under the weather all day dealing with either mild food poisoning or a lower GI bug - either way, it wasn't a fun day. I like a good purge as much as the next girl, but a full day of cramping and weakness was a killer, especially with so much left to do for the move.

I went to bed a little early and got a good night's sleep. Until the big, retarded cat started making noise as only he can at 6:30am. As he woke me up, I realized I felt a lot better and would be able to catch up on the stuff I couldn't do the day before.

El Gato Retardo found his way into an old, empty moving box - a weird one that folds over on top and tucks into handles on the sides. It was up on its side, propped open, so the cats couldn't get trapped inside it, as had just happened the day before (two got inside then the third curled up on top, holding the others captive - an impressive trick, when you think about it).

He was sitting inside the box, pulling old tape off the cardboard with his teeth. I really wanted to go back to sleep, so I got up to remove him from the box.

As he typically does, he becomes three times heavier and sinks down into the bottom of the box, refusing to vacate. So I did what I always do, I tried to upend the box to help him find his way out.

Unfortunately, the dumbshit stuck his foot through the hole in the side and FLIPPED OUT because the WORLD WAS ENDING WITH HIS FOOT IN THE HOLE. Meowling like he was being branded with a hot poker, I tried to free his leg, and that's when he chomped down on my hand like it was a tuna steak.

As I screamed bloody murder, he got free and tore out of the bedroom and I ran to the bathroom sink. The cold water felt like kerosene in my pretty puncture wounds. I bled and bled, then washed the wounds with soap and poured four gallons of hydrogen peroxide in them.

When the foaming subsided, I found a band aid and went online to refresh my memory on treating puncture wounds. That's when I found the website with user posts about the WORLD ENDING BECAUSE OF A GANGRENE HAND AS A RESULT OF A CAT BITE.

Totally freaked out, reading about super strong IV antibiotics, tetanus shots, days in the hospital and hand surgery, I called the 24/7 nurse line. A kind, sleepy RN recommended I skeedaddle right down to my local clinic for some of those antibiotic horsey pills.

But wouldn't my oregano oil and probiotic capsules knock it out? Maybe, in time, but since I'm about to drive to Canada in a matter of days, I thought it smarter to get the big guns and nip it in the bud. I'll slam the pills any day if that means I don't have to get that effed up tetanus shot.

Now I'm on the horse pills - Augmentin - staggering that with probiotics in hopes of avoiding the yeast infection side affect. If things continue in this manner, I suppose I can look forward to starting my period with a yeast infection as I drive to Canada with a throbbing hand the size of a football.

Huge thanks to Cameron for letting me drag him to the Walgreens after lunch to pick up my Rx, and for his help choosing the right Monistat - there's the One Day, the Day & Night, the Three Day, Five Day, Twelve Day All Day, Gentle Applicator Day, Topical Anti-Itch Day and the Six Nights and Three Days varieties - they all look like so much fun, I wanted to get them all.