Sat,7PM: Go out with girlfriends
Sat,7-11:59PM: Drink Italian aperitifs, profusely
Sat, 10-12:30AM: Send a whole bunch of inappropriate texts to people, some of which you don't know and do so from someone else's phone
Sat, 11-11:59PM: Eat a wide variety of hamburgers and french fries in a futile attempt to save yourself
Sun, 1-8AM: Sleep, after drinking 5 glasses of water and taking a bunch of Aspirin
Sun, 8-3PM: Lounge around, moaning, pretend to the kids that you have the flu and eat lots of bread or carb-related foods
Sun, 3PM: Feel better miraculously, and watch the Super Bowl. Not feeling too great, mind you, since you still want to be served by my underage slaves.
So, everything worked out until 8AM. I was snoring along. I had gone to the bathroom at one point and had realized I was still pretty, umm, busy holding on to furniture, and had continued sleeping like a baby. Mind you, not a newborn, restless and constantly waking up with problems, but rather the one-year-old that holds onto it's babby and has big rosy cheeks while cuddling up in the corner of the crib.
I was having a pleasant dream, a really nice one. It involved unicorns or something like it and meadows and a lake and me swimming, but not the one where I am in the water and realize I forgot to put on a bathing suit but the one where I am winning the triathlon and hunky guys in skimpy European type bathing suits are cheering me on, waving bottles of delicious liquids enticingly, and I was walking out of the water all Bo Derek-ish except that my hair wasn't in cornrows- because that never looked comfortable but rather painful- and I was planning on passing up Fabio in the front and moving towards the back where Beckham was grinning at me in his beautiful H&M underwear when all of a sudden a giant piranha impaled its teeth into my left foot and wouldn't let go.
As my slow motion music abruptly stopped, I also abruptly woke up and after a few seconds of daze and befuddlement realized that my foot had hung over the edge of the bed and James, the cat, was hanging from my big toe, grinning devilishly.
And I hated him that moment. And I flicked him off as my foot lay there, bleeding and he non-chalantly walked over to his food bowl and started meowing and giving me an accusatory look. And I told him to eff- off and then he walked back over to me and started attacking my hand. I yelled at him and Gigi came over and asked why I was so mean and I showed her my foot and she brought me a Spiderman band aid and brought him purring sweetly to the bed and when she walked off James attacked my hand and skidded into the bathroom and disappeared for a while and when I came to use the bathroom he jumped out from the top counter and attacked my leg and I told him I definitely wouldn't feed him if he acted that way and then he was kind of hanging off my pajama leg and I tried hiding in the bathroom but he barricaded himself behind the toilet bowl brush and mocked me, so I had to go to the other bathroom.
But, I forgot that I don't use that bathroom anymore because the litter box lives there now and we never developed an effective cleaning plan and I really considered doing more than just gag, and then I saw Gigi again and she asked if, since I was up, we couldn't just go ahead and garden like she had been asking me to, so I grumbled and agreed and planted a bunch of bushes and then painted the rest of the front door and then I want to the grocery store because apparently we didn't have any food, and then people came over for the game and then my team lost. And at some point I looked up the stairs, and James was laying there his legs hanging off the railing and his tail gently hitting the floor while the dogs watched him from the bottom of the stairs. And then I decided that I knew. And I just KNEW that someday I will be reincarnated as this house cat, it's this thing called KARMA, dammit. So, I went upstairs and fed him the extra good stuff.
