Tired, Tired and my Cat's on Fire

Last night was one of those nights where my entire body and mind were absolutely exhausted by the time I got home from work.

The previous night of restless sleep did not help much. It was one of those convoluted slumbers in which I could feel the slow, creeping dawn of yet another Monday awaiting me on the other side of awake.

However, after I had faced the day, done my duties, and slurped coffee like, well...a Slurpee, I still felt a heaviness on my shoulders. Tiredness tugged at my eyelids. My skin was a fresh shade of fluorescent-beaten ash, and my eyelashes had left fuzzy imprints of themselves in staggered, flakes of day old mascara.

But even as my car puttered home, I still could not shake this sense of ever doing, never done. I am in the midst of a strange time at my job (lots of work and not lots of hands to do it), it didn't energize me- it depleted me in every sense of the word.

Stumbling into my house, all I could dream about was drawing a hot bath. Letting the water work its way into my weariness while thumbing through a few of the new books that I was reading, sounded not too short of heaven.

I knew I had a few little chores to do around the house first so I took the clean sheets out of the dryer and made the bed. With every pull of the fabric, I felt my muscles knotting and cramping, and the bathtub whispering sweet nothing's from the adjacent room.

I loaded and unloaded the dishwasher, falling asleep once in the middle of a coffee-mug put away.

I poured my ravenous self some salsa and dipped turkey and tortilla chips into it. Not quite comfort food, but fatigue punched me in the gut every time I even imagined chopping, dicing, or cooking- let alone doing the dishes (again) after the feeble feast was prepared.

After it was all done and the emails were checked, and the blackberry docked- I finally made a bee-line for the bathroom. I lit candles, collected my books, grabbed a fluffy towel that was still warm from the dryer, and watched with anticipation as the level of the bath tub water began to rise.

And when the time came, I slipped in.

A soothing, "Ahhhh..." muttered from between my lips and an exhale soared through the room. Tension melted from my shoulders, and slipped out from between my toes. I drank in the scent of my Gardenia Lavender candle that was quickly spreading throughout the bathroom.

I reached up for my book, and slowly read the pages. Drinking in the words, getting lost in the story, analyzing the writing style, identifying the themes. I was taking my time. (Which is a departure from my usual speed reading which I do when I am trying to jam brain-food in on my lunch break, or when I am on the couch trying to read with the roaring boil of TV commercials or Friends re-runs competing for my attention.)

Speaking of, if I hear another Free Credit Report.com commercial I swear I might throw my precious book right through the plasma! Seriously, how many angles about some guy with bad credit can there possibly be? The guy has now worked at a seafood restaurant, and played at a Renaissance fair? I guess you have to give them kudos for absolute absurdity, but the commercials aggravate me to the point of muting, or yes, literary violence.

Anyway, my cat, Mojo, is absolutely obsessed with water, so after I had filled up the bath, he bounded over. Carefully stepping around the edges of the bath, he would dip a paw into the water in awe. Petting him absentmindedly, I was feeling quite cozy. Mojo likes to butt heads with me, much like in The Lion King when Nala and Simba roll around in the jungle- I imagine it is their way of giving kitty kisses.

So he leans in for a little loving, and I turn my head to "kiss" him back. His eyes were closed, and his purr reverberated through his little chest. I smiled at him, and watched him gingerly round the tub again. But this time, as he waltzed by, I noticed a billow of black smoke curling into the air from behind him. And then I sniffed...my cat was on fire!

I instinctively threw water all over my cat, and stuck his tail into my bath. Which caused a thousand little balls of black cat hair to accumulate across the surface of the water. The stench of burning human hair has nothing on burning feline hair, it is combination of kitty litter and finger nail polish remover. Gac!

Mojo of course freaked out and ran into the bedroom, dragging black tufts of wet, singed cat hair all along the bathroom floor and onto my carpet.

And then there I was. Stunned.

The candle was snuffed out by tails-end, the bath water was now thick with a layer of black, crusty cat hair, my book was drenched like a prune. The whole unexpectedness of the scene was permeated by a smell that couldn't possibly be choked out by my gardenia lavender candle, it just hung in the air like something from Pepe Le Pew.

I had two choices:

1) Stay in the tub, re-light the candle, spray some Oust and try to ignore the floating pieces of smoldering kitty tail, and just enjoy the night like I had planned, and had needed in so many ways.

Or

2) Pull the plug. Pack it in and just call it like it is- death by Felis Catus sacrifice.

And just like that, I laughed. A good old fashioned, "life is so ridiculously annoying, it has to be funny" laugh. It was then that I noticed that I had been taking life way too seriously.

So with that, I bid adieu to my evening of relaxation, and just chalked it up to another life lesson learned.

Cats are sadistic.