I woke up after 4 or 5 hours of fitful sleep to the sound I hate most in the world: the sound of my Cat-head doing his morning sun-salutation. When the room brightens, he splays himself out in the sun and meows, full volume, until I get out of bed and go to the computer. (He prefers for me to type at the computer instead of sleeping). When he is convinced that I am not going to go back to sleep, he stations himself in the floor of the shower and spends his day alternately sleeping (little fucker) or batting my rosary beads around among discarded shampoo bottles and soap dregs of the shower. I used to think he did this because he is religious. I now know he does it because it is part to make sure the rift between me and Jesus is never fully bridged because my rosary beads are fully coated in soapy residue and this situation is an excellent excuse (for me) for continuing to give God (and Jesus) the stony silent treatment.
Thanks to everyone who commented on my inexcusable, whining, self-pitying post this morning. There are no words for you lovely and perfect you all are. Oh and I still know nothing about what is going on with my dad but I will post when I do.