Hot cat breath

I awoke at 4 a.m. to a cat breathing in my face. A couple of mornings ago, I awoke to the same one sneezing down into my face, and you just KNOW what kind of day you’re going to have, after such an auspicious start.

Of course, it’s now 5 a.m. and I’ve discovered that said cat left me to go crap on the living room carpet. I think Michael Vick was on to something with killing vicious little four-pawed wonders. When he gets out of jail, he’s getting a package (maybe even with airholes) from me!

Yes, the acerbic wit is at full throttle today. I can’t even write it off as Tourette’s — I think everything and everybody sucks and I’m not afraid to say it. In fact, I know I let quite a few comments slip today, but enh. They’ll live.

I’ve been lying awake for the past hour-plus. (You’d think that, with all the Guinness I consumed tonight, I’d be in a coma till at least Sunday.) And there’s no end in sight to being so tightly wound that I could eat coal and fart out a diamond. At the rate I’m going, I’ll be able to crap out a full tennis bracelet by lunchtime.

I had some funny thoughts while I was tossing and turning, but now, I got nothin’. Well, they made ME laugh anyway. But I suspect other people can’t take a joke … even if they themselves are a walking punchline. (And not a very good one.)

Oh well, back to bed. Maybe this time I’ll get in more than two hours before a cat breathes, belches or barfs in my face. …

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