![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
miladygreyHector decided to get up at 4:30am.
He would not stay on the bed and be petted into calmness.
If left alone, he deliberately went around to our respective nightstands and knocked things (books, phones, picture frames) off them until someone reacted.
When we shut him out of the bedroom, he sat by the door and yowled unceasingly until Westley (who was shut out of the bedroom with him because he hates being trapped behind a closed door) attempted loud murder.
Pair that with a night of hamster-wheel brain, worrying about Ireland (why am I worrying? This is supposed to be a fun vacation!), worrying about work, being mad at something that happened on Westworld...I got maybe two hours of sleep?
And then Yeats somehow forgot to unpack his lunch Tupperware from Friday all weekend, so I got to start my morning scrubbing three-day-old crusted remnants off the plastic.
And then, somehow, Hector found my dice bag while I was drying my hair (which still has a skunk stripe that's driving me crazy), and scattered dice all over the living room floor, and if my lucky d20 is lost I will in fact murder him.
Already, I hate this day.
He would not stay on the bed and be petted into calmness.
If left alone, he deliberately went around to our respective nightstands and knocked things (books, phones, picture frames) off them until someone reacted.
When we shut him out of the bedroom, he sat by the door and yowled unceasingly until Westley (who was shut out of the bedroom with him because he hates being trapped behind a closed door) attempted loud murder.
Pair that with a night of hamster-wheel brain, worrying about Ireland (why am I worrying? This is supposed to be a fun vacation!), worrying about work, being mad at something that happened on Westworld...I got maybe two hours of sleep?
And then Yeats somehow forgot to unpack his lunch Tupperware from Friday all weekend, so I got to start my morning scrubbing three-day-old crusted remnants off the plastic.
And then, somehow, Hector found my dice bag while I was drying my hair (which still has a skunk stripe that's driving me crazy), and scattered dice all over the living room floor, and if my lucky d20 is lost I will in fact murder him.
Already, I hate this day.
