The cat, so often sweet and adorable and funny, went on one of her pre-dawn rampages this morning, howling and yowling and skittering and crashing, taking flying leaps off dressers and closet shelves and flying leaps onto the bed, whinging and whining as if the very gods were torturing her everlasting soul.
We finally locked her out of the bedroom.
She spent the next hour alternately scratching and clawing at the bedroom door or mewling so pathetically it both broke my heart and made me want to wring her (not so) scrawny little neck.
Then there was the woman on the street corner below, shouting her rage presumably at her boyfriend into her cellphone, flickering through my semi-consciousness gesturing maniacally and flinging her head about, long hair flying in the early morning breeze.
Then it was 6:45, cell phone alarm clock vibrating violently against the wood of the bedside table, and time to wake up for real.
I think I really need a second cup of coffee this morning.
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