Pets are Evil

Three hours of sleep. Three hours. That's my total from last night.

At 11:00, D and I went to sleep.

At 1:00, I had to pee. My cat tried to follow me back in our room, but I closed the door before he could. If he sleeps with us, he enjoys waking me up at 4:00 with a swipe at my face or a bite. It's lovely.

Between 1 and 2:30, the cat is scratching at the bedroom door to get in. I get up 3 times to yell, throw a ball of socks, and try to get him to go away. Finally, at 2:30, I open the door, he runs in, hides under the bed, and I have to drag him out and toss him in the hallway. By this time, I have completely lost my mind and am so tired that I fear I may be hallucinating. Is the cat even there at all???

At 3:00, my dog begins a nightly ritual of cleaning himself loudly and wetly. I have been asleep for maybe 15 minutes. I kick (not literally, of course) the dog into the hallway.

Between 3:00 and 5:30, I actually sleep.

At 5:30, time to pee again!

At 6:00, the alarm goes off. I drag my quivering, exhausted body out of bed, grab my towel and head into the bathroom. Except, when I open the bedroom door, the smell of dog shit hits me with the force of 1000 mack trucks. Sometime between 5:30 and 6:00, the dog has decided to relieve himself on our dining room rug, rather than hold it for one 1/2 hour more until I get up and let him out.

I spend 20 minutes cleaning up the mess.

At 6:30, I finally get in the shower. And here I am at work an hour later, cold, exhausted, and not thinking clearly. I need sleep! Baby needs me to sleep! D needs to sleep! Ridiculous.

Pets are evil.