Monsters.

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#100BM Day 49

Uggggghhhhh. Had such an anxious, interrupted sleep that even the click of my oscillating fan changing directions was keeping me from getting back to Dozetown.

Sometimes, only sometimes, repetitive noises do that; the first time I remember it happening was when I was about 6 and I got really upset that the crickets at the Ranch where so loud and that their noises were infecting my dreams.

So there’s that.

Worse was Hamish’s relentless campaign for food. Seriously, I would be eternally grateful and possibly bow at the feet of whoever figures out how to say, then teaches me to repeat, in cat, “What is this FUCKING HORSESHIT? Dawn is FIVE HOURS AWAY. IT IS NOT TIME FOR BREAKFAST.”

In a non-cruel way, obviously. ‘Cause not all felines are bastards. Maybe.

Gave up at 6, fed him, went back to sleep, then slept in after dreaming that my friends wouldn’t take me to a Peter Capaldi-owned pub in the Midlands for my birthday, even though we were staying in the town. They had arranged a party at a Wetherspoons or similar several towns over. Weirdos

Speaking of weirdos, here is R’s mum’s cat freaking out a bit over her own reflection. HOW’D THAT CAT GET UP THERE?!

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