I don't sleep I dream

Was planning on going to bed/sleep at 2230 last night, in order to get me my full eight hours.

Well.

I had to do laundry. I had to deal with the cat. I was made a lot slower in doing this because I was in a really incredibly *foul* mood from not enough sleep. Dude doesn't always do the dishes as soon as he might, and he was holding off on picking up his laundry until he'd gotten the dishes done.

We did improvise a cat container. Two laundry baskets, held together at three points each 90 degrees apart, using hair elastics for the holding. This has a dual function: keep the cat contained, or keep the cat out of the laundry, just depending on what side of the laundry cage the cat is on when the lid springs back closed.

Dude and Chick have been having their sex life interrupted too much by this creature, as they tend to use the living room after Sis and I have crashed in our own rooms, and I categorically refuse to have the cat in my room when I'm trying to sleep if said cat is in hyper-mode.

If the cat is hyper, then the cat decides to chew on Dude's toes ... right in the middle of the Wrong Moment ... so Dude pays more attention to getting rid of the cat than he does to what's going on with Chick ... which pisses her off ... which makes him unhappy ...

We now have a cat-container. The "Mew? Meeeew!" is far preferable for half an hour to an hour or so than toe-chewing during coitus.

morning workout

Overslept; got to school around 0630. Darkside was there waiting. "And here I was worried about being late," he teased us. Sis was there too for once.

Darkside and I had our ritual arm-wrestling competition. He had better leverage today; from where I was, it was damn near impossible to move my arm any further than where it was already. After what felt simultaneously like quite some time and very little time at all, we declared it a stalemate and shook hands.

The "How many fingers am I holding up?" routine, with middle finger extended, is still funny.

"You know, people are going to be looking over here and wonder why we're flipping each other off," someone said. And then Darkside flipped off the room in general.

General silliness with Darkside's glasses. He always snitches mine when I take them off, so I returned the favor when he took his off to test his vision. When he asked for them back (I'd been hoping for a bit of a wrestling match, but oh well) I tried handing him my sunglasses instead... "Nice try," he said. "My glasses."

Every day, our hands touch. I must admit I've been slacking. I am no longer aware of our hands metaphysically touching on the most immediate level above us at all times. I'll start that again. His hands are so warm...

My vision is so blurry.