It was 3 am, I was awake, eyes closed, lying in bed, and my cat bites my left elbow, not hard, but hard enough to force me to sit up and stare at her blurry image. I attempted to rub my sleepy eyes to focus better; instead, I pushed my reading glasses into my face, evermore confused with my inability to rub my eyes than the fact my cat bit me for no other reason than she’s a cat. Perhaps I am still sleeping, and this is one of those out of body experiences; no, my Kobo reader on the bed quilt in sleep mode still displayed “The Collected Works of Henri Bergson” reminded me that only a few hours earlier, I was reading until I passed out. So, I accepted the situation for what it was; my cat is an asshole, a cute, adorable, blue-eyed, fluffy white asshole that I love. I figured, seeing as I am up, I may as well do something useful; what?

Slipping feebly and quietly out of bed, a sharp sting in my lumbar region caused my core to flex fully, my legs involuntarily kick out, snagging my cell charging cable attached to the phone, hurdling it to the hardwood floor with a loud ‘thump” driving my fluffy white asshole to leap off the bed escaping the bedroom, but not before she uses the door as a wallride, creating more noise as the door bangs against the wall and her paws feverishly scratching for traction along the entire length of corridor hardwood floor into the living room. Her rapid paws reminded me of a Hanna Barbera cartoon running sound effect, which caused me to laugh out loud, subsequently, far from easy in my obscure yoga-like maneuver with legs projecting off the bed, upper body at 45º, twisting to one side, using my hand to cover my mouth, giggling, in pain and hoping I don’t wake up my sleeping wife one foot away from me, I fart.

Today is shaping up to be a fun day

Haphazardly, I successfully removed myself from the bed, wife undisturbed, unaware of the cat attack and my flatulent yoga giggles; I was and am fully wide awake.  I brewed up a mug of fresh coffee; why not? It’s only three something in the morning; I don’t sleep at the best of times as night terrors dominate my dreams, but today, I don’t remember the terrors that caused me to stir before the fluffy asshole attacked me, so I can rejoice in the comedic, bonhomie win, which is ironic, considering my top of the literature “The Comic in General – The Comic Element in Forms and Movements – Expansive Force of The Comic.” Hitherto, my dyspeptic mood has prevailed for well over a month, and it’s challenging to feel and reflect on positive occurrences through the foggy haze of PTSD. Still, today, all thanks to my fluffy white asshole, I am compelled to share the sequence of events. Yes, I was up extremely early, got attacked by a cat, had shooting pains in my lower back, broke a cardinal rule, no farting in bed, giggled and started writing again while my wife slept through it all. Today is shaping up to be a fun day.

You see, this is one of those mental health post-traumatic growth moments – a conglomeration of minor adverse events that would have commonly caused me a ton of mental anguish has unveiled a generous serving of absurdity that I can laugh at. I will embrace this moment and cherish it; not often enough do I laugh at myself nor share something like this. TGIF