Nature's Alarm Clock

Cat vomit: nature's alarm clock.

Some time in the night I awoke with a start. Bleary eyed I attempted to take survey of my room but all I could see were hazy shapes. That fuzzy square surrounded by two larger fuzzy squares were my record player and speakers, that pear shaped humanoid leering in the corner being my dusty cello, and that pile of lumps in the corner, well, those were my dirty clothes. It was as if someone had pulled the wool right over my eyes. It was dark and I was thoroughly confused, uncertain as to why I had bolted awake. Then the horrible realization sunk in. My cat was about to vomit.

My cat was heaving right next to me and before I could react; SPLAT! COUGH! The best sounds in the word erupted in the darkness of my room. I grappled for the light switch and there right next to me was the largest hair ball I have ever witnessed. My cat blinked her eyes, annoyed by the sudden harsh light. She licked her face, and as if reading my expression knew it was time to leave. She stumbled out of bed, tripping over my legs and leaning precariously from side to side as she made her way down acting as nonchalant as possible. I just stared in bewilderment and utter disgust at this soggy bundle of cat hair no more than a few inches away from my body. There was also another lingering emotion; pure amazement.

The size of it! I was slightly impressed.

Forcing myself to take my eyes away from what looked like a regurgitated clone of my cat I squinted to take in the time, just a few minutes after 3, I had not been asleep for more than an hour so begrudgingly I got out of bed to take care of this delightful present. I should now mention that this is not the first episode this month. Oh no, a few days ago I was thwarted a quite enjoyable dream, being thrown back into reality by the sweet sweet sounds of my cat heaving the contents of her stomach onto my bed. So last night, I felt like a pro, in an organized fashion I was able to clean up the hairball, take off the comforter that had absorbed my cats gastrointestinal juices and flung it in the hall to be dealt with at a later, brighter hour of the day.

I then returned to my room, made a general inspection of my bed and deemed it sleepable. But how does one fall back to sleep after such an exciting event? I turned off my light and stared blankly at my popcorn ceiling reliving my day's events. Over all it had been a good day, work went by quickly, nobody commented on my intelligence or apparently lack there of, pretty much in and out with absolutely no bruises to my ego. I suspect this is when things got weird. Having so much time on my hands before a highly anticipated night I started to act like a down right spaz which would not cease for the rest of the evening.

It can honestly be said that I am not normal. I am best classified as quirky, my oddities are my own and either you love them or you hate them, or you have a sick twisted love/hate relationship with me and that's just confusing. Often I do and say things with out thinking, probably my brothers biggest annoyance with me because he feels it is his brotherly duty to keep me alive after I act like a complete spaz. I walk past a biker and say "Hey Leather Daddy!" and Nathan rushes me away, I see a political sign and announce "Rachel for President! Abortions for all!" and he starts walking faster, or simply out of boredom I invent Sally Baxter, wife to author Stephen Baxter, she works as an athletic instructor at Washington Elementary and is quite the firecracker with a prominent lisp and Nathan laughs but is still red in the face from embarrassment.

So as I look back on the day, my spastic tendencies sinking in, I myself get red in the face from the absolute embarrassing acts I commit. What must people think? Cat vomit aside, there is no way I can sleep now.