There's nothing like waking up at 1:45 a.m. to the sound of your cat coughing up a gigantic hairball.
Not so bad?
There's nothing like waking up at 1:45 a.m. to the sound of your cat coughing up a gigantic hairball, while standing on top of the duvet, between your legs, and then splattering cat spit, fur, and chunks of cat food all over said duvet and onto the floor.
Forcing myself out of bed this morning at 1:46 a.m., I wiped up what I could, surveyed the rest of the vomit-spray, cursed King and decided that there was NO WAY I was spending the rest of the night in that bed. I told Mrs. TBF that I was going to sleep in the guest room.
About one minute after getting under the duvet in the guest room - yup, you guessed it! - King decided that he'd like to reclaim his spot on top of the new duvet between my legs. I told him to get the Hell out, and...he did; not to be seen for the rest of the night! Mrs. TBF slid into bed next to me a few minutes later, after opening the window, because "...the guest room smells like eggs!" (sorry about that!), and we spent the rest of the night sleeping in our guest bed. Or, should I say...NOT sleeping?
First, it took both of us about an hour to fall back to sleep. Then, I woke up at some point (4 a.m.?) and saw Mrs. TBF hopping around the room with a cramp in her leg. At 7 a.m., the bells, loud and clear because of the open window, were clanging away at the local church.
Why do the church bells clang at 7 a.m.? Why?...why?...WHHHHHHYYYYYYYYYY???
I got up and made us both some coffee, and brought a cup into the bathroom for Mrs. TBF just in time to hear her telling King:
"You just came one step closer...to the urn, MISTER!"
He didn't seem to care one way or another.