A cat by any other name

Isn't this what caffeine is for?


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Meow at me

Thursday and Friday I had to be at work much too early for conference calls - which mainly consist of me sitting on the phone adding in an occasional "Uh huh", but I have to pay attention because every once in a while they ask me a question. I live about an hour away from the project site so that means getting up even earlier. And just because I really enjoy driving while half awake, I drove down to meet with friends for dinner both nights too. This was about a 250 mile round trip.....which is always fun at night when one is exhausted. It's a struggle between my brain and me as to whether we drive or sleep.

BRAIN: I'm sooo tired.

ME: Yes, but we're driving now. You can't be tired. You have to focus.

BRAIN: Why? Focusing is boring. Check out what the road looks like when your eyeballs dry out.

ME: Hey! Quit that! Here. I'll turn on the radio. Really loud. And sing. How's that?

BRAIN: Boooooring

ME: Okay. How about this? Look left. Look right. Tap the foot. Open the window. LA LA LA LA LA LA!! Look left....hey, pay attention here. I'm trying to help. You think I'm not tired?

BRAIN: And who's brilliant idea was it to do all this driving and no sleeping?

ME: Oh, shut up.

And so it goes. The good thing is, I haven't crashed yet - or else maybe my cats have taken over and are posting journal entries for me, but I have a sneaky feeling that if that indeed were the case somewhere in here would be the mention of tuna and a job posting for someone with opposable thumbs who could scoop litter boxes and work the can opener.

I wish sleep was something that you could save up, like pennies in a glass jar, and then dip into whenever you didn't get enough. I would get an huge jar and label it "Emergency Sleep Fund". Then I could sleep extra late one or two Saturdays a month and somehow make up for all the sleep I'm not getting the rest of the time. The problem is that even when I *can* sleep late, I can't sleep late. I feel guilty. There's all these things I should be doing, you see. So I do things like set the alarm for a certain time that's later than I usually get up, so just in case I sleep later than that, I won't be overdoing it.

I have this alarm clock that I bought because it said it was extra loud. Something that makes little noises just doesn't cut it. The cats make little noises. I needed an alarm clock that scares me awake. This one does. So in the morning I play games with myself. Only ten more minutes won't matter so much - I can get away with swatting the snooze button. Of course then as soon as I hit it I can never fully go back to sleep. Questions start whirling madly in my head. Did I accidently turn the alarm off? How many times have I hit this thing already? How fast am I going to have to drive down the highway to get to work if I hit it again? Why is it that whenever I am just about ready to get up, all the cats swarm me in extra-cute and snuggly mode and make me feel guilty for getting out of bed? What is that noise down the hall that sounds like someone hacking up a - *hairball*? Wait! Not in my........slippers. Sigh.

And having cats doesn't help. Whoever said that cats walk on marshmallow feet never was owned by cats. Sure, cats are quiet when they are sneaking up on your dinner plate or dashing up from behind you when you are carrying something heavy to flop down in front of your feet so that you fall flat on your face in a vain attempt to avoid stepping on them, but at three in the morning after a particularly long day, they tear up and down the hall in some obscure cat race training, sounding for all the world like elephants in steel-toed boots. Oh, don't get me wrong. I love my cats dearly. But for some reason they always have the worst possible timing for when to keep me up all night.

I'm going to sleep late tomorrow morning. Or at least try. That jar of Emergency Sleep has been pretty empty these last few weeks and I'm beginning to realize that if I don't try to remedy that and soon things might get unhappy.

But first I have this sudden, unexplainable urge for tuna.