Thanks to Gravity
If I’m reading at night, and I’m a little tired or drowsy, and I happen to drop the book I’m reading, and the book happens to land on a sleeping wife or sleeping cat, neither one of them seems to like that sort of thing. This is not surprising.
But their reactions are markedly different.
The wife is irritable, wakes me up, and enforces her concept of a restful night over my protests.
"Ow."
"Huh? …Oh, sorry."
"Turn off the light and go to sleep."
"But I only have 2 pages left in this chapter."
"That was a heavy hardcover and my head."
"…"
"Go to sleep."
The cat wins points for physical explosiveness. He’s asleep on my chest and the book is hovering over him. I drift and the book drifts down. The moment the first corner touches him (belly), he leaps four feet, turning in the air to land facing me on the arm of the couch at my feet. His expression is a mixture of confusion and irritation, as if to say, "Clumsy pink twit! Why am I over here and why am I awake?"
Impressively, he manages all this before a second corner of the book can fall level with the leading one.
(I realize I’m reporting from a hypnogogic state, but since something furry launched itself from my chest in half-sleep my brain helpfully snap-clarified what was going on in the room as I was waking.)
I invite the cat back, but he grumps off to repeat his nighttime cycle of curl, purr, snooze elsewhere.
Aftermaths are different also.
The wife has never forgotten about this.
"Don’t drop that book on my head."
"That was three years ago. It never happened again."
"You’ve had near-misses."
"You can’t prove that."
The cat seems to have forgiven me. Aside from spending the whole next of the day in bed (which is, I promise, unusual for him), he seems generally unperturbed by hovering books. Though it’s not clear to me if his day of napping was meant to inspire vengeful jealousy or if it was more of a helpful example, as in "This! – This is how you sleep!"
---
Side Note: Anybody who recognized the post title as the name of a band should get a lollypop.
But their reactions are markedly different.
The wife is irritable, wakes me up, and enforces her concept of a restful night over my protests.
"Ow."
"Huh? …Oh, sorry."
"Turn off the light and go to sleep."
"But I only have 2 pages left in this chapter."
"That was a heavy hardcover and my head."
"…"
"Go to sleep."
The cat wins points for physical explosiveness. He’s asleep on my chest and the book is hovering over him. I drift and the book drifts down. The moment the first corner touches him (belly), he leaps four feet, turning in the air to land facing me on the arm of the couch at my feet. His expression is a mixture of confusion and irritation, as if to say, "Clumsy pink twit! Why am I over here and why am I awake?"
Impressively, he manages all this before a second corner of the book can fall level with the leading one.
(I realize I’m reporting from a hypnogogic state, but since something furry launched itself from my chest in half-sleep my brain helpfully snap-clarified what was going on in the room as I was waking.)
I invite the cat back, but he grumps off to repeat his nighttime cycle of curl, purr, snooze elsewhere.
Aftermaths are different also.
The wife has never forgotten about this.
"Don’t drop that book on my head."
"That was three years ago. It never happened again."
"You’ve had near-misses."
"You can’t prove that."
The cat seems to have forgiven me. Aside from spending the whole next of the day in bed (which is, I promise, unusual for him), he seems generally unperturbed by hovering books. Though it’s not clear to me if his day of napping was meant to inspire vengeful jealousy or if it was more of a helpful example, as in "This! – This is how you sleep!"
---
Side Note: Anybody who recognized the post title as the name of a band should get a lollypop.
posted by blerg3000 at 11:05 AM
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