Wednesday, 20 January 2010

Let sleeping cats lie?

Yesterday we got up at 05.30 (yes - ZERO five thirty) to start our new exercise routine. As we both work long hours and still want to eat and talk to our son, we decided it would be good to get the 30 minutes of pain out of the way at the beginning of the day.

I'm not exaggerating when I tell you that 60 seconds into the routine (boxercise: whaaaat?), I was retching over the toilet. I like to think that my blood sugar levels were out of kilter (the medical term) at that time in the morning, which makes me sound like the over weight, hypochondriac that I am. And before you comment, I'm certainly not pregnant, just very unfit.

This morning, I stayed in bed and drank tea rather than throwing up. I can't tell you how much I love my bed. It has an electric blanket and my husband in it - two of my favourite things in the world, perhaps not in that order.

Anyway, after Husband left, the cat kept me company and we both crawled out of bed at the last possible moment, just before the point when we were really late - me for getting ready for work and for waking up the Boy, and the cat for more sloping around on every comfortable surface in the house. I can't really blame him - we shut him in the garage for 24 hours by a mistake on Tuesday, and he still hasn't forgiven us. I'm trying to make it up to him - hence allowing him to sleep on our bed.

Actually, I'm lying and trying to create an impression that I'm a well ordered woman who keeps a pristine home and never allows her cat to sleep on her bed. This woman certainly doesn't have muddy paw prints on her favourite duvet cover that won't wash out, even at 60 degrees. I'm not that woman, and the cat sleeps with us every night (unless locked in the garage), shoe-horning himself into any available space and driving a wedge between me and Husband, literally. I woke up at 02.30 (yes - ZERO two thirty) this morning to find the cat's head next to me on my pillow, staring at me silently, his eyes reproachful, as if to say 'Don't think I've forgotten Tuesday night'. This was too freaky even for me, and I chucked him off.

There's nothing worse than a cat who takes liberties.

3 comments:

Nicola said...

Oh my! I had no idea Footballers Knees was Potty's sister! You have my most favourite blog name in the world ever. Anyway, it sounds to me like you have a very well behaved cat. If my cats sleep in my room they tend to wake me up for a shower at 2am, which typically involves having my hair licked and my ears cleaned thoroughly by a tiny wet snout. This happens without fail. After the clean down it is then time to celebrate with an impromptu playdate where they chase my legs under the duvet feverishly and with malicious intent.

There is never - I repeat NEVER - a situation extreme enough which will permit them access to my bed once I am in it...you must show your cat this post and assure him (her?) he's a very lucky moggy indeed and the sniffy looks and haughty attitude are way out of order!

Potty Mummy said...

Oh my god. You really DID do the morning exercise routine. I clearly have to come home AT ONCE. (or at half term, at any rate).

Brit in Bosnia / Fraught Mummy said...

No no no to early morning exercise. Once upon a time I was known to row. At 6am. My theory was that I'd be done exercising before my mind really woke up. But it was all lies! My mind did wake up and objected. So no more. No I figure small children and dog are exercise enough. But under no circumstances, even a 24 hour garage lock in, would the dog be allowed onto our bed.