A Couple Deep-Fried Hams and a Side of Sleep, Please

The Boy is busy turning 40 in his sleep. I am uncharacteristically not sleeping, which is frustrating since it happens so rarely to me (well, it would probably be even more frustrating if this was a normal thing, the lack of sleep would probably drive me to some pretty horrible things). Compounding my inability to sleep are a) Whoopis and b) intense calf pain. Whoopis is diabetic and goes through phases of being a nice, normal nocturnal cat, to a raging wild hungry beast, who will do anything to get your attention, because dammit, he really wants a fucking deep-fried ham and some beer to go with it. Tonight he felt the need to bat at the alarm clock, which is a truly disturbing and annoying racket. I gave in, like the bad mommy I am, and gave him some kibble. A common refrain around the house is, "Oh, that ker-razy Whoopis!." Feeding him was not easy to do because my calves are on strike, so it's like I am walking on stilts with my knees. Yesterday was spent moving Wikus out of his 2nd-floor apartment and in to a 3rd-floor apartment. I held up pretty well the first 4 hours, but flagged in the fifth. That's a lot of stairs, and as we know, I'm a lover of the couch. Thank goodness I had lemon poundcake for breakfast that morning and pizza for lunch. Where else would I get all the energy I needed for the task?

Today my calves are angry, swollen and pregnant with what feels like a large rock in each leg. To get to my office I must go down one flight of parking-garage stairs, and another flight inside the building (it's a slightly odd set-up). After taking my first step, I thought it would probably be less painful to just throw myself down the stairs. The only reason I didn't was because all I could think was it would be my luck to break my neck and suffer the humility of living through it and having my dress up over my head with my large, be-pantied ass hanging out for all to see.

Sometimes I think through the plan; other times I just let boxes of water drop on my head. Today was obviously a better day for working on following common sense.

Here's Whoopis on The Boy's birthday present about a week before our floors were installed:



He's going to be so sad tomorrow when that box is opened and later broken down for recycling. All the cats have enjoyed playing King of the Mountain on it. It seemed especially timely after the Orange Lover's death--they are re-establishing their hierarchy and this box certainly helped out with that. Though, it seems that poor Bear is still on the bottom, but doesn't mind sharing the box at times with Whoopis (check out the Bear's mighty-fine whiskers):



Mattress, however, has no time for the birthday box; he's too busy trying to mind-meld with the OED (I'm assuming here that mind-melding only works when your eyes are all glowy and freaky looking):