Day 90: Sharing a bed with cats

Between You, Me and the Lamp Post

Day 90: Sharing a bed with cats

I’m quite sure that cat lovers are familiar with cats sleeping on their bed. They curl up in the middle of it, at the foot end, or snuggle between the pillows. Seeing them fast asleep is cute and we don’t want to wake them.

It’s a different story when we want to go to sleep and there is no room for us to get into bed, or to get comfortable.

Take last night for instance. It was 1:00 a.m., I wanted to go to sleep, but … there were four cats on my bed. 

Halley got up when she saw me coming, but Charlotte, Holly and Greyson gave no sign of moving.

Somehow I managed to squeeze myself under the duvet and lay down. That is to say, I tried to get into a comfortable position, but I but couldn’t stretch out because Greyson and Charlotte were side by side at the foot end of the bed.

Holly, who was on the other side of the bed, lifted her head and glared at me as if to say … you woke me up. 'Sorry,' I whispered, and she went back to sleep.

When my legs cramped up, I ever so carefully stretched them out, my feet under Greyson and Charlotte. If you think those two moved, think again. I got absolutely no reaction.

Still not comfortable, I moved my feet from here to there, causing Charlotte and Greyson to bounce and roll around a bit. Charlotte didn’t care, she was obviously of the opinion … go with the flow, but Greyson eventually lifted his head. The message he sent me was clear … do you mind, we’re trying to sleep. Yeah well, so was I.

About ten minutes later Greyson got up and came to kiss me goodnight, as he does every night. A kiss on my right cheek, a kiss on my left cheek and another kiss on my right cheek. Next, he lay down on my chest. “Greyson you have to move,” I told him. “You’re too heavy.” I wasn’t kidding, Greyson weighs a good 20 lbs and is as such quite heavy. Fine, he moved.

As I turned on my side, he moved with me and curled up against my chest, right under my chin. Now I had a different problem … his whiskers were tickling my nose and cheek. When that brought on a sneeze attack, Greyson had the good sense to move.

Now it was Charlotte’s turn. She got up from the foot end of the bed and joined me under the duvet. She stretched out behind me and I prepared for sleep. Well, that didn’t work at all. Every time I moved, I got a kick in my back.

Meanwhile, Holly who slept on my other side had finally drifted off and produced all kinds of sound effects. Don’t imagine a gentle purring, she was snoring, sputtering and sighing.

Sleeping with cats, I tell ya, it’s no joke. It's a shame I don't fit into one of their cat baskets. Maybe I would find some peace and quiet there.

    

Day 129: Bed acrobatics

My Project: 365 Creative Writing Prompts

Day 129: Bed acrobatics

When bedtime comes around, everyone has their own routine. Some people take a shower, others make a cup of chamomile tea, while others still read a few pages of a book to calm down. Me, I count my cats before turning in.

Most of the time, finding them is no trouble at all. Charlotte usually sleeps curled up by Dieter’s feet while Gabriel, Holly, and Halley are already on my bed. As such, getting into bed requires some acrobatics on my part. With a cat here and a cat there, getting a space to lie down takes a certain amount a sliding, twisting and turning to get under the duvet.

While some cats get up at the slightest movement, Gabriel, Holly, and Halley are like rocks, they don’t move an inch. I can push them, put a foot under them and try to lift them, it makes no difference whatsoever.

As soon as I turn off the light there’s movement though. Holly comes and drapes herself on my chest. Not only is this a considerable weight, it’s also quite warm. Welcome in winter, but not so much now in summer. Meanwhile, Halley likes to position herself on my head. Another source of heat.

Smart as they are, they know my routine though. As long as I’m on my back they can expect to be petted, but once I turn on my side, I want to go to sleep. So, they move. Now there’s another problem though … purring and snoring.

Holly likes to share my pillow, which is fine, but with her happy noises, it sounds like there’s a helicopter hovering near my head. As for Halley, she’s only a big baby, but her purring reaches quite a few decibels.

In the morning things are quite different.

Charlotte and Holly are late sleepers, but Gabriel and Halley rise with the sun. They seem of the opinion when we’re up everybody should be up. As such, Gabriel starts meowing, only he doesn’t meow like a normal cat, he pronounces meow as mayo, as in mayonnaise. When I try to shush him, he adds a few decibels. Not that I have any intention of getting up at whatever time he starts his nonsense.

Halley never asks for food, she knows she’ll get her breakfast in good time and until then she plays with her favorite toy, a plastic spring. Unfortunately, we have hardwood as flooring and when she chases the spring her nails make a scratching noise. It’s like an army of mice running around.

Eventually, I give up and get up.

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Day 47: Cats and their quirks

My Project: 365 Creative Writing Prompts

Day 47: Cats and their quirks

Today is one of those rare days that I have nothing to do. No articles to write, no emails to answer, no research to do, and the prompt I’m supposed to write about doesn’t appeal to me. So, I’ll do what I always do when I’m short on inspiration … I write about my cat family, you could call them my four muses.

Right this moment, the fire alarm is being tested in my condo building. A series of sharp peep, peep, peep, sounds amounting to several decibels fit to pierce an eardrum.

While this is merely annoying for me, my cats are terrified of this noise. Charlotte is hiding under the duvet of my bed, Mickey is under the bed, Holly is more annoyed than scared that she can’t go to sleep, and Gabriel … well, Gabriel is Gabriel, he couldn’t care less. As far as Gabe is concerned, the fire alarm could be accompanied by an earthquake and a tornado and he wouldn’t care. As long as he has his basket it’s alright with him.

On the subject of sleeping … last night I came close to waking up Dieter. He was snoring again. Before I go any further, let me explain.

There was a time that Dieter snored every night, and by snoring, I mean SNORING. Several times a night, I had to get out of bed to go and wake him up because even with the door of his bedroom closed, the noise came through the walls to the point that it woke me out of a sound sleep.

He tried nose strips, I tried earplugs … nothing helped. Then I read that snoring is often caused by dry air in the bedroom. When I mentioned this to Dieter, he went and bought a humidifier. And low and behold, it worked. From day one, no more snoring. So, from then on, night after night Dieter switched on his humidifier and we were both able to get a good night sleep.

Until last night that is. Shortly after he’d gone to bed, I heard snoring. This surprised me because all these months he’d been so quiet. Did he perhaps forget to switch on his humidifier?

I was about to get up when I noticed that the snoring noise didn’t come from Dieter’s bedroom but from the armchair in the living room. Upon closer inspection, it wasn’t Dieter who was snoring, it was Charlotte. Yes, believe it or not, Charlottes' snores resembled a chainsaw!

When I mentioned this to Dieter he nodded in agreement. He knows all too well that Charlotte snores. When she sleeps with him on the foot end of his bed, he frequently has to give her a nudge when her snoring gets too loud.

As for Mickey … Mick is a fairly relaxed cat. He's clearly tired today, but he hasn’t forgotten yesterday’s drama, so he’s a little hesitant about putting his head down. 

That leaves Holly … Holly’s pose says it all. As far as she’s concerned, yesterday's fire alarm testing technicians can kiss her butt.

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A snoring conspiracy

All my life I’ve had a problem with snoring. Not me, but other people. It's not just that it bothers me, it drives me up the wall!

First it was my dad. The nights didn’t bother me as such, because my parents’ bedroom was quite a distance away from mine, but when we went camping I couldn't sleep in the tent. To get some sleep I was forced to sleep in the car. His snoring was so loud that even neighboring campers started to complain. 

When I got married I fiercely hoped my new husband wasn’t a snorer and fortunately, he wasn’t. He had another problem though … he was a heavy breather. He felt bad about it, but in those days there was nothing to be done about it.

Many years later I was selected to join the national bowling team of South Africa and our team of twelve, six men and six women, plus two coaches, went to Pretoria for the Interprovincials.

To keep the cost down, two women would share a room, two men would share a room and the coaches would share a room, making it seven rooms. I was teamed up with Anne.

I was quite looking forward to having a roommate and building team spirit, but things changed dramatically shortly after the lights were turned off.

Anne started snoring, but it wasn’t a normal snore, it was like a freight train was going through the room. I tried putting my fingers in my ears and putting the pillow over my head, but her snoring was so loud nothing helped. Eventually I gathered up my pillow and duvet and slept in the bath. Since we had a five-day stay in Pretoria, I insisted to be moved.

More recently my son Dieter turned out to be a snorer. For the longest time he never gave a peep at night, but suddenly he developed a snoring problem. 

Several times each night I had to get out of bed and go to Dieter's room to wake him up. And forget about people only snoring when the lie on their backs. Whether Dieter lay on his back, side or stomach, he snored in all positions. Sometimes he would be cooperative and rolls over, other times he grumpily reply "I'm not even sleeping." Yeah right.

I insisted that he go see a doctor, this couldn't go on. He didn't get sufficient rest and neither did I. "Wear ear plugs," someone suggested, but they had little or no effect. While they drawned out soft snoring, once Dieter got going I could still hear him.

"Try nasal strips," someone else suggested. Dieter bought nasal strips, three different brands, and other than being $30 our of pocket, these nasal strips did absolutely nothing.

Just when we started considering a sleep apnea machine, someone suggested placing a humidifier in his room. The very next day such a machine was bought and … there was peace and quiet, Dieter didn’t snore anymore.

Now there is another problem … Charlotte, one of my cats snores. You might not think this to be a problem, but it is. At night Charlotte sleeps with Dieter, but over the weekend when I take a nap, she comes and sleeps with me.

My goodness and can that cat snore, you wouldn’t think it possible that such a small nose and produce so many decibels. When I touch her to wake her up she starts to purr, only to switch again to snoring ten seconds later.

First my dad, then my friend, next my son and now my cat … is this a snoring conspiracy?

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Do I have a mental problem?

I received a comment today, asking if I had a mental problem.  This person was doing research for an essay and had stumbled across my blog.

I briefly considered defending my point of view, but then I thought ... neih, it’s not worth it.  If I say something, he/she is going to say something back, and then I’ll say something back and before you know it a simple comment has turned into a heated argument.  So, I left it alone and moved on.

The comment got me thinking though ... do I have a mental problem?  If I do, there’s a perfectly good explanation for it.

There was a time that I occupied myself with cleaning, cooking and gardening.  In my spare time I wrote a weekly letter home, did some knitting, crocheting, embroidery and beading.

The house was always spotless, something was simmering on the stove and my family and I had plenty of sweaters, scarfs and hats.  Even in the bathroom there was evidence of my creativity ... the spare toilet roll was kitted out in an original jacket.

With the arrival of the computer – and especially the Internet – everything changed.  Suddenly there was a fine layer of dust on the furniture and the windows had lost a bit of their sparkle.  Occasionally we would have take-out and bought sweaters replaced hand knitted ones.

I don’t even know how or when it happened, but suddenly I spend my days writing.  If I don’t write articles, I research articles.  If I don’t surf from website to website, I write emails or answer emails.  In between, I post this, that and the other on Facebook and leave comments on other people’s posts.  Via Facebook I visit blogs and leave comments there too.  Write, write, write, that’s all I do.

Okay, I play a fair amount of games on Facebook too, but that’s beside the point.

When I finally retire and go to bed, I have to share my space with two or three cats.  They curl up or stretch out and I have to adjust my sleeping position accordingly. 

It wouldn’t be so bad if they were quiet sleepers, but they’re not.  Mickey snores, Charlotte sighs and Gabriel makes funny little meow noises. 

In addition, Mickey has a tendency of kicking me when I don’t give him room to stretch, Gabriel swats his fury tail in my face, while Charlotte walks all over me.  She tramples over my chest, pushes her cold wet nose in my ear and says “krrrrrr, krrrrr, krrrrr!”  You try sleeping with that lot.

(Meantime, Dieter sleep with Chanel, a perfectly good and quite kitty cat ... even she too has a tendency to snore.)

Finally we all go to sleep, but only until dawn.  As soon as the sun rises Gabriel awakens and his theory is ... if I’m awake, so should everybody else.  So, he starts meowing.  Not softly mind you, but loud and insistent, and increasing in volume.  In fact, his meowing is like singing an aria from Aida.  Verdi would be proud of him.

After they had their breakfast, the kitty cats go back to sleep and so do I.  Not for long though, their internal clock is finely tuned and sooner or later they decide that it’s time to get up.  So I get up.

If you think I can shower and brush my teeth in peace and quiet, think again.  It doesn’t take long before there’s scratching on the door.  I open the door and Mickey walks in.  He takes a look around and wants to go out.  I open door.  He hears the water being turned on and he wants to come back in.  I open the door.  The bathroom is too hot for him and he wants to go back out.  I open the door.

There’s more scratching at the door.  I open the door.  Charlotte walks in.  She wants a drink at the sink.  She too decides that the bathroom is too hot and wants to go out.  I open the door.  Jeez Louise, these cats need a concierge.

For the remainder of the day I have peace and quiet.  The evening though brings a flurry of activity.  While I try to concentrate on writing, the cats play games.  Games that increase in roughness as time goes by.  Occasionally I have to yell “Guys!  Calm down!”

For a few minutes they behave themselves until the madness starts all over again.  They’re favorite game being racing, NASCAR style.  They sprint from room to room, jump on chairs, fly over tables, only to go sprinting from room to room again. 

I yell again for them to calm down when there’s a loud crash ... that was my favorite lamp.  (I can’t tell you how many pieces have bitten the dust at the hands/paws of my fury kids.

Writing and cats ... not a good combination.  Is it any wonder that I have a mental problem?

Quiet time

I’m spending an evening by myself. Dieter has gone to bed uncharacteristically early (10:30), the cats are all asleep, and with no TV and no music it’s so quiet here I can hear the tic toc tic toc of the wall clock.

This is just like old times, when I was unemployed. Back then I hardly ever went to bed before 2:30 a.m. I got up late, took a nap in the afternoon and since I didn’t have to get up early in the morning I could afford to get to bed at all hours of the night.

Since I started working again it’s quite different. I have to get up at 5:30, so I like to be in bed around 11:00.
Friday and Saturday night we usually sit up late, sometimes until 2:30 or even 3:00 a.m. We can sleep in the next day, so what does it matter when we extend an invitation to the sandman?

But tonight is different, Dieter’s right hand is broken and this little handicap has been bothering him. I guess we, with two capable hands, don’t quite realize what we have until one of them is out of action.

I could do with an early night too, because the stress of the past few weeks has been crazy. During September there was the running around of condo hunting; October brought stress with estate agents, lawyers and the bank; and if that isn't enough I had to put up with a colleague with the most annoying habit.

This guy was constantly clearing his throat and I do mean constantly.
There were times that not a minute passed without him clearing his throat. Can you imagine once a minute? That’s sixty throat clearings in an hour! I’d like to see anyone putting up with that
It a medical condition he said. Okay then why isn’t he doing something about it? Let him go see a doctor and get some medication to get it fixed. These days there is a remedy for almost anything and everything.

Okay so maybe it’s just me and I’m too sensitive, but I really can’t stand the noises people make. Whether it’s sniffing, snoring or throat clearing ... IT GETS ON MY NERVES!!!