Mike, his mother, and his grandmother are currently on the I-40 and have (hopefully) escaped the worst of the bad weather that forced them to stop early in Liberal, Kansas. When Oklahoma starts closing roads, you know it’s bad, yo.
Meanwhile, I’m at home with two cats and trying not to spook myself out with 2300 square feet of empty space. So this means I’m sleeping with cats.
There are really good reasons to sleep with cats: while they won’t bark if something unusual happens, they will bolt — well, one of them will bolt. Atticus would probably lumber slowly toward or away from an unexpected guest, which means that in a pinch I could pitch him at the intruder while I go looking for my jo or a frying pan or the other cat.
Also, they curl up with me. That’s decidedly comforting.
And finally, because they like to curl up at random places at random times, they remind me to roll onto my side. I am an inveterate back sleep, I prefer it, but I’ve been told DON’T DO THAT and usually Mike comes in and says STEPH DON’T DO THAT and now the cats are effectively waking me up to say MEOW MEOW MEOW*.
* “Don’t do that.”
In regards to sleep: first night was rough. The cats don’t sleep with us anymore and so when I let them back into Bedroom Eden they had to Explore, and then they had to Yowl when they got lost Exploring, and then they had to Knock Shit Over. This is the Way of the Cat. Explore->Complain->Knock Shit Over.
That’s one reason not to sleep with cats. The other reason is why we stopped sleeping with cats: I am, sadly, mildly allergic to my wee darlings. So I’m waking up in the morning with a runny nose and mildly itchy eyes and the knowledge that I’ll need to rewash the bedding come Thursday.
But there is something very soothing about one cat curling up at my feet, and the other by my head, and waking up to that configuration (more or less). And with four weeks to go to full term and an increasingly hampered range of motion (squat, Steph, squat!), I need all the soothing I can get.