Tesla Anomaly

That was my response to the "Mornin', how ya doin'?" I received from my co-worker this morning. It made him laugh. That's good, because something useful ought to come out of the bizarreness of last night.

I think there is still something hard-wired into humans that makes us very nervous about what lurks out there in the dark. Deep inside our civilized bones, we still know that there are creatures out there bigger and stronger than we are, and with a lot more claws and fangs.

This is my excuse for my reaction to last night's events.

Last night I fell into a deep, went-tubing-rode-horseback-hiked-then-drove-eight-hours type of sleep. So I was particularly jarred when, at quarter till four, I was violently snatched out of my dreaming by the sound of something with far too many claws and teeth DYING HORRIBLY OUTSIDE MY WINDOW.

At least, that's what it sounded like. I bolted out of the bed and hit the floor before I was fully awake. Casper and Nexus (still in velcro-kitty mode after my latest trip out of town) scattered, growling. Somehow, the fact that my cats were alarmed enough to growl at whatever was outside the window terrified me most of all. Heart pounding, I finally got my muzzy thoughts into an order that went something like this: "Catfight. Irene. Other cat? Raccoon? Possum? Meaner than she is!" At that point, I began to worry about my cat, and decided to get a broom and come to the rescue.

As it turns out, elisels coming to the rescue against unknown growly-screechy things in the middle of the night are not terribly heroic. We inch out the door, and we jump a foot in the air when something unseen gives one last "HISS-SPIT" very, VERY nearby. We caaaaaarefully edge over to where Irene is lurking under the porch chair right outside the window, and stoop down to examine the cat. The cat is sitting calmly, with an expression that says, quite plainly: "What? I've got this under control."

Somehow, her calm was eerie. I also found it damnably eerie that whatever had snarled at me when I opened the door never came into sight. I only assume it left because I never heard from it again.

I tried to go back to bed, but was still too creeped-out to sleep, terrified of a thousand dopey ghost stories told to me as a child. It was just that kind of moment. But most of all, I was terrified of falling asleep, only to be awoken by a repeat of that godawful noise. I mean, I have heard a lot of cat-fights. But this was something else, and I'm still of the opinion that Irene faced down a possum rather than another cat. (Not an opossum, either, but a possum. This is Miz'sippi, y'all.) And in the middle of last night when I was tired and disoriented, I couldn't bear the possibility of being woken up again by that same nightmarish screeching.

Yes, basically, I was scared of a sound. But there you are.

Around 4:30 I gave up, showered, dressed for the day, hauled Irene inside to prevent additional epic battles, made my bed, and sprawled out under a blanket to nap until time to go to work. Somehow the act of getting ready for the day distanced me a little bit from the night, and made it okay to sleep.

Casper's new game is to wake me up if he thinks I've slept too late (where "too late" may range from 6:15 to 9:00, depending on the day of the week, the phase of the moon, and how much cat food is left in the bowl).

He does this by poking me in the head or neck with a paw. I don't know how a cat that small gets that much body weight behind a one-pawed poke, but he is quite good at it. So nearly every morning I get:

Casper: *jab* Mom!

Me: ....ZZZZZzzzz

Casper: *jab* *jab* *JABJABJAB* Mooooooooooom.

Me: Buuuuuuh?

Casper: *JABJABJABJABJABJAB* It's morning! Aren't you excited?

Me: I should've adopted a gerbil.

Casper: *JAB* Remember the cat toy I politely dropped on your face in the middle of the night? It's still right there if you want to pick it up and play with me!

Me: *hides toy under pillow* What toy? I don't see any toy. Go back to sleep.

Casper: *jab* You could at least get up and feed me a canary. You know you want to.

If I can program Casper to go off at the right time, I am reasonably certain I can throw out my alarm clock forever.

demonlet's birthday present was on the kitchen counter last night.

I will give it to her next Saturday.

If I can find where Casper has hidden it.

:(

It is 11:30. I am a third of the way through an assignment I want to turn in tomorrow, so I'm looking at a long night. I am reading and summarizing articles for an annotated bibliography. And I am having a good time.

I really, really need a life.

Or more articles. <3

Edit: ...Meanwhile, Casper has decided to be a lap cat tonight, and nevermind if I have to type around him.

He can stare at the canaries from where he's sitting.

So.

My first day of teaching went well today, but left me sore and wiped out from being on my feet for nearly six hours straight. So before bed, I crawled into the tub to read and soak. It wasn't long at all before I heard the telltale signs of approach:

*jingle*
*jingle*
*jingle*
*PLUNK*

I glanced over to see Casperface. He'd brought me his toy (string and stick attached) and dropped it right on the edge of his tub between his front paws, and was peeking over the rim at me, waiting to see if it was time to play.

So I went Fishing For Kitty for a while. There is something brain-bendingly backwards about any sort of fishing when you're the one in the water, dangling a lure over dry land. But soon Casper got bored with this, and hopped up on the rim of the tub himself, wandering back and forth and looking for things to play with. The shower curtain was his favorite. I, meanwhile, returned to my book. Time passed uneventfully...

....and then, he fell in.