Tim is out of town for a few days, which means I basically get to do whatever I want.
Watch whatever I want.
Eat whatever I want.
Yesterday I ate a can of Chef Boyardee mini ravioli (hardly the dinner of champions, but I don't cook when I am by myself- I don't feel like dealing with the dishes.
Anyway, I cooked up a bowl of mini raviolis, plopped down in the living room and enjoyed Toy Story 3. I'm a wild woman, I know.
The cats are the ones that most benefit from Tim being away from home. Usually they are confined to their room at night, otherwise they try to open our door all night long, have epic cat battles and generally expend 1000% more energy than they do at their most frisky point during the day.
When it's just me at home, I leave them out and even leave the bedroom door cracked so they can come visit. It's nice to have that added warmth and presence there when Tim is gone.
It used to be that all the cats slept with us at night. That wasn't a problem when it was just Gypsy- well other than the time I woke up to find her settling down to sleep across my face in an attempt to smother me to death. Even Toby wasn't a problem- he would settle down at the foot of the bed with Gypsy and we'd all snuggle up and sleep wonderfully.
However, the addition of Boo was too much. Two grown adults and three cats was a bit more than our Full size bed could handle. It was also around this time that Toby and Boo figured out how much fun it is to snuggle.
It's very sweet to snuggle the kitties normally- like when watching TV or curled up on the couch reading a book. When it comes to bedtime, they wanted to be as close as humanly, er kitterly possible. Tim has no problem kicking them off the bed. I feel bad about doing that and since I sleep curled up in to a ball, they quickly learned they could steal half of my side of the bed with no fear of repercussions.
Anyway, the only time they get to spend the night roaming free is when Tim is gone. I sat up a little while in bed reading a book, Toby purring contentedly beside of me. Then here comes Boo. He waits until I turn off the light and snuggle in the covers to decide to climb over me so he's being spooned. Then he decides he wants under the covers. Then he wants to be partially out of the covers, laying across my arm. Then he leaves.
Toby is disgruntled by all this moving and eventually he too jumps out of bed. I take this opportunity to finally get comfortable in bed. I settle down, ready to fall asleep in an instant when I hear it.
"Guuuurrr, ruuuuuuuughh, guuuurrrrr, uuurrrrggggh." The odd "I'm too fat for life" purr of Toby. He's not in the bed, but he hasn't left the room. This is a bit unsettling. I spend the next 15 minutes laying in bed, eyes wide open, hoping I get at least a hint before he suddenly attacks. For a super fat cat, he alternates between being quiet as a shadow or stamping around like an elephant.
I drifted off to sleep and when I woke sometime in the night I was wedged in on either side by the two boy cats. Majorly uncomfortable. Even with an entire bed, minus the little corner I curl up in, both cats had to press themselves up as tightly as they could against me. Warmth whores! I passed a fairly uncomfortable night, while the boys were as happy as clams.
Hmm- I think tonight I'll lock the cats back up and treat myself to a good sleep. I don't think I'm so lonely that I want to spend another night trying to sleep in a cat-kneaded pretzel.