This day shall live on in infamy as I stayed up until five in the morning, and then had my beauty sleep interrupted by two dogs, a husband, an aunt and a visiting cousin. At eight thirty I had to get up again, and I had to become sociable in two minutes flat from the moment I opened my eyes.
If you knew me well in real life, you would understand what a challenge this was. I usually need at least half an hour to get going, if I am lubricated well with strong tea. But in two minutes? That’s asking too much.
A very grumpy Colin came down to the kitchen to be nice to people who could have rung days in advance to announce their visit and not conspire with my so-called husband, who is supposed to understand and support me and let me sleep, by ringing him an hour before arrival.
Did I get that understanding and support? Of course not. I got a pat on the head, and an admonition to go to bed at normal hours. He also said it was my fault. And no sympathy from Auntie and her daughter either. I swear, I’m living with a bunch of Colin-haters who probably plan these things in advance for the most impact.
Sometimes I think that I should crawl under the bed and hide, and when people come close I would growl and bite. And whip any groping hand with a shoe. The only problem with this plan is that Watson would likely think it was a fun game, and he’d join me and lick my face. Not even the dogs respect me.
Okay, I exaggerate, a little bit. I admit it. But like Bilbo said to Frodo, right now I feel like too little butter spread out over too large a sandwich. And Auntie and the cousin left only an hour ago, and I had to be nice and pleasant and social the whole time, and pretend that I didn’t want to run back up to bed and sleep.