Oh, insomnia.

I don’t typically sleep well. I have a million tricks, but some nights, they all fail.

Too hot, too cold, too hungry, too full, too thinky too sad, all reasons the sweet embrace of Morpheus turns into a mocking middle finger.

Tonight, I’m fairly certain my sin was an after dinner couch nap.

So I was laying in bed, too warm, trying to read to sleep. Rick’s evil floof got under the covers to entrap MORE heat next to my skin. Sigh. Evil floof does not like being dislodged from her chosen spot and will make a fuss, potentially waking Rick. I decided to just deal with her.

Knowing I’m her mahm bitch now, Evil Floof starts kicking me sharply in the back, startling me. Keep in mind that this is a tiny bit of fur and eyes, smaller than Rick’s combat boots. And yet, Evil Floof is kicking like a goddam mule.

Sigh.

I give in, letting the rotten little monster have my side of the bed and head to the couch in the cooler living room.

After arranging the couch and pillows to suit me and turning on Star Wars at low volume, who do I see in the glow of the crawl on the screen?

If you said Evil Floof, you get a cookie.

Now Luke is whining about wanting to go to the Academy and she is biding her time perched on the far end of the couch.

Evil Floof isn’t done yet, and no matter where I go, I will still be her bitch.