Can't Sleep, Part II

My husband has a cold, which means he can't breathe, especially at night. He snores when he sleeps, which means that with this cold he sounds like a chainsaw. Or a wrecking crew. The cold also makes him restless; many's the time I've woken up with his elbow poking me in the kidney, or one of his arms flopped over me, or had him squish me onto the very edge of the bed, on the verge of falling out.

Gah.

Last night I woke up at 11:00, with his snoring about to shake the windows. I'm a very light sleeper in general, so even with my earplugs I couldn't get back to the realm of unconsciousness. So I migrated to the couch, cat in tow, and tried to catch some Zs. No dice. Between the cat wanting to sleep all over me (after giving me a very thorough kneading first), terrible nightmares, and a couch that I can't quite stretch out full length on, I had a horrid night.

Insomnia sucks.

W.A.R.

Otherwise known as "We are Always Right."

Ever come across someone like this? Someone who, for whatever reason, is either unwilling or unable to consider the validity - or even the existence - of alternate viewpoints?

These people just boggle my mind. The "it's my way or the highway" tenet is so insular, so narrow-minded, so tremendously *arrogant* that it's a wonder they can function in society.

There is no arguing with them, or even disagreement. If you don't believe as they do, you are WRONG. End of story. To entertain notions to the contrary is so threatening to their worldview, to their very nature of self, that they must fight and deny them at every turn.

In the end (to quote from the movie "War Games"), the only way to win is not to play.

Bleah.

My DH is out of town on business; he left early yesterday morning, and will be back tonight.

Good thing - I never sleep well when he's gone. Last night, despite sleeping next to a body pillow, I tossed and turned. Woke up this morning feeling hung over. I'm on my second cup of tea, and I'm *still* groggy.

Can't wait till he gets back. Neither can the cat - she's been pacing around the house like she's looking for something/someone, meowling all the way. I tried brushing her, playing with her, and offering her treats, but she's having none of it.

Come home soon, honey. We miss you.

Obsessive Little Fruitloop!

I am, of course, talking about my cat.

In addition to plucking a huge hank of fur out of her left flank, her anxiety, coupled with a hefty dose of obsessive-compulsive behavior, has now lead her to start deforesting her tail, as well. Of course, when she does this, the skin gets irritated, resulting in yet more licking, more irritation, more licking....

You get the idea.

Come Saturday, we're off to the vet. Necessary trauma. I want to make sure some underlying allergy or other condition isn't behind this whole pluckfest. And short of kitty prozac, I want to ask the vet what I can do (aromatherapy, Rescue Remedy) to ease the anxiety rattling around inside that little furry head.

*sigh*

More later.

Kitty Neuroses

My cat has SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder).

I kid you not. We've gone a little over three days without sunshine, and between that and the wet basement (sump pump running, fans blowing nonstop), she's been one little bundle of stress. So stressed, as a matter of fact, that her occasional fur-plucking has escalated into a full-blown Pluckfest.

Last night I discovered her obsessively licking at her flank. A closer inspection revealed that she'd torn out a huge (1.5" diameter) hunk of fur, leaving her skin raw and red.

She's done this one time before, several years ago - she tore out a huge hunk on one shoulder blade. The fur grew back, but it came in white (and she's a mostly-black Tortie).

There's not much to be done for her except hope the sun re-emerges soon.

Now I have yet another title for Her Highness, Princess Tortuga, dowager Queen of Chicken, Terror of the Deck...and now, Plucker of the Fur.

*sigh*