The music swells, but in that quiet way. (So maybe it's not swelling. Maybe the music is pretty quiet, but I want complete silence because I feel like garbage and I just want to take a nap.) Small smidge of a fever, trace ketones, and a lethargy that made me test to confirm I wasn't 348 mg/dl (and I wasn't - 146 mg/dl instead). Instead of going to the gym, I toddled off to bed.
As my head rested against the cold pillow, I sighed deeply and welcomed the coming nap.
Instead, it was time again for the Sausage Opera.
She comes bounding in, trilling and purring, walking all over my face. "Meow ... meowmeowmeow -Wake up!" No sleep for Kerri, who feels sick and feverish and Crumbs Morrone-y.
That foolish gray cat has been a complete menace for weeks now. Earlier in the month, she was making her home on Chris's face, putting her nose in his ears, paws on his head, and occassionally trying to sniff his mouth. This did not go over particularly well with my husband-to-be, so we started shutting the bedroom door during the night. This should have been a good arrangement, as the cats were given 3/4 of the apartment to themselves, including the food supply, litter box, and a smattering of things to play with.
However, this was not enough for young Sausage.
She has taken to camping herself outside of the bedroom door and singing. Yowling. Picking at the floor with her paws and throwing herself against the door. Purring loudly. Singing her little gray head off.
"Oh my God, what is she doing?" I mumble in my sleep, fussing around and putting my hand on Chris's shoulder. "She's singing again. Make her stop!"
Automatic Response Chris reaches beside the bed, where he is stashing a supply of balled up socks to throw at the door. Mumbling incoherently, he fires one off, the door booms, and Siah stops mid-chirp.
There is a blessed 15 minutes of silence. We start to edge back towards sleep. Until ...
"Oh so la MEEEE-OW!!!" Siah throws her little six pound body against the door and belts out a second chorus. "Meow! Meow! MEOW!"
We have tried filling the food bowls to capacity. We have tried petting her before bed. We have even put a suitcase in front of the bedroom door to keep her at bay. Nothing stops the Sausage. This little bugger always has her way, from chewing on insulin pump tubing to leaping all over our heads at five in the morning. Now she's made the move to opera.
And we're not sleeping.
If you have any suggestions, we're all ears. HELP!