Monday with a Stress Hangover

So, did you think yesterday's post was the end of the story? Ha, ha.

Pardon me. I don't mean to laugh at you, dear reader. Just, whoever I have annoyed in the complicated pantheon of beings with the power to screw up my life, they are not yet appeased. To pick up where I left off.

After all the stresses of yesterday, I was exhausted by 9PM. I got ready for bed, got into bed, and read for about 2.6 minutes before turning out the light. I missed Harold, who was resting on a blanket on the living room rug, but I was too tired to dwell on it.

Shortly before midnight, I woke up with the beginnings of a headache, what a surprise. Took a pill and went back to sleep.

Shortly after midnight, I woke up again. What woke me?

Beep.

What? What's beeping?

Beep.

Where is that? Is that a stupid smoke detector? Why do the batteries always die in the middle of the night?

Beep.

All right, which one is it? I have to get someone in, an electrician maybe? This system is Not Right.

Beep.

Except can I afford an electrician? Remember, $1100 in vet bills? Maybe it can wait.

Beep.

Or maybe not. Okay, it's in the office. Close the door? Nope, still can hear it in bed.

Beep.

Okay, both smoke detectors in the office are down. Remove batteries.

Beep.

No, that's not possible. If you remove it from the power, and remove the battery, it can't beep!

Beep.

How is this possible? Try a new battery, see if that makes it happy. Change one...

Beep.

Okay, change the other. Alarm starts to go off for real. (As I said, this system is Not Right.) Try to remove battery, it won't come, have a partial meltdown before achieving battery removal. Silence.

Beep.

I am going back to bed. This is clearly impossible, and I am too tired to deal with impossible things.

Beep.

As I go back to the bedroom, the carbon monoxide detector outside the bedroom winks its green light at me. Bastard. Shut up.

Beep.

Get in bed. Pile blankets over head.

Beep.

Wait a minute... carbon monoxide detector...

Beep.

There's another one ... in the office.

Beep.

Go back into office. Look behind door. Beep. Gotcha! Remove batteries. Achieve peace at last. I am an idiot, but at least I am an idiot who can go back to sleep.

5AM. Piteous meow from Harold, the kind that has me out of bed and standing up before I'm fully awake. He's still on his blanket in the living room. Seems fine. Miri is nearby, but not apparently bothering him. Pet him for a bit, then go back to bed. Feeling like shit, I bump the alarm time out by half an hour.

Alarm goes off. I am so tired that I am debating if I have the energy to stand long enough to shower. Decide that if I have to ask that question, I should not be driving a car. Go back to bed.

Wake up at 7:30, not feeling much better. Call work and leave a message for my boss, expressing a hope that I will be able to come in later, but certainly will not be in on time. Go back to bed.

Wake up at 10. Not feeling great, but much better. Get out of bed, and there, in the living room, is the blanket that Harold has been on more or less the whole time since getting back from the vet. He was there for the getting the headache pill, the whole beeping incident, of course for the piteous meow incident, and for the calling in to work incident. Now Harold is not on the blanket.

Consider the blanket. Call to Harold. Look around. The condo is not that big, there are not that many places a cat could be, particularly one who is unlikely to be jumping. Go through the whole place, calling him, and not finding him. Sit down and try to remain calm.

(Years ago, I woke up one weekend and my cat Honey wasn't there as usual, nagging for food. I lived in a small apartment, and could not find her anywhere. Eventually, after calling and searching, I found her very casually stretched out in the bathtub. She looked up at me like, What? Totally unconcerned.)

Harold is not in the bathtub. I start looking in every nook and cranny.

He is curled up in the back corner of the closet. He looks calm, and comfortable. I try to relax. Pulling him out to examine him seems like a bad idea, though it's what I want to do. I don't, though. I talk to him, and leave him in peace, while I get ready for work. Happily, when I got home, he came to meet me. Limping, of course, but in good spirits. He sat on my lap for a good bit while I was on the phone, and he purred.