Last night was an adventure for the livestock around this house. I was trying to get much needed sleep and I really wanted my litttle Abby on my lap. She came and stood in front of my recliner and implored. I patted my right knee and the leg jumped out and kicked her. Poor girl. I finally fell asleep, but was awakened by a commotion outside the french door to my room that was open to the back deck.
I looked up and saw the hem of my curtain disappearing to the outside. There is a little raccoon kit that uses that ruse to get my attention. But, then I heard a cat growl and decided my presence was needed. I stood up too fast and got my feet entangled in the sheet and blanket in front of my recliner. As I tried to extricate my feet I stumbled and kicked over a squirt bottle of Windex, which gave me an idea. This was just as I saw the throw rug at my door start to disappear through the door. I was being raided.
By this time I was annoyed and still sleepy. I stumbled to the door , Windex bottle in hand and looked at to see six little faces looking up as if I ws coming out to play. Charging out, squirting ahead madly, the first blast was straight into my chest. This just made me mad. I turned the bottle around and squirted everything I saw. About a yard onto the deck, stepping on the pinecones and twigs blown in by the last wind, my feet got caught in something cold and slippery. Trying to keep upright, I had the onset of an Epic Flood, but no mice in sight.
Losing a bladder full with a tiny pinecone embedded in the sole of my foot I frankensteined it back into my room. It was still not clear what was going on. I flipped the deck light on and aimed the Windex at anything that might move. By now there are no live creatures on the deck, coon or feline. It reeked of ammonia, though. What I did see, though, was a line of my panties - the one I stepped on, another about a yard down, and the third about ten feet beyond that. The little buggers were on a panty-raid and had snatched them off a pile of clean clothes on a chair near the door!
I'll never know if one of those guys returned to the frat house with the most coveted prize.
By the time I collected the errant panties, took care of the flooding, calmed the cats and made up with Abby, I was wide awake.
Does this count as MS insomnia?
I'm almost afraid to try sleeping tonight. I've hidden the laundry and learned not to tap my knee. The Windex is by the door (and it's already aimed AWAY from me).
Life has become so complex.
Quix, the beleagered.