A Bedtime Story

For my first post, one might think that I would choose share a fabulous recipe, maybe some great pics, or a witty perspective on life. No dear friends, not this time. Nope, the topic of the day - hairballs. 


Yes, hairballs. 


You see, hairballs are a daily occurrence in my life (I'm only slightly exaggerating) and have been for many years. Imagine this for a moment - you are peacefully asleep, snuggled deep in your covers. All of the sudden, you're rudely awakened by a horrid retching sound. In your sleepy haze you think to yourself, Is this it? God help us! The last days are upon us! 


Suddenly, you are wide awake with panic. You see, a cat will not be content to simply barf on the floor - a nice wood or tile floor that could easily be wiped away. No, he absolutely must, by order of the Cat Code, find something of value that you have absentmindedly left on the floor. Or the couch. Or the desk. You get the picture. So the inner struggle begins. Do I get out of this warm bed and assess the damage? Or do I wait til morning? I mean, what's done is done whether I get up or not. So you stay, tucked away safely in your bed , blissfully ignorant. 

Now it's morning, you stumble (if you're me) out of bed and make your way to the bathroom. Then, in one horrifying, life-altering second, your foot meets a slimy, cold substance (or if you're really lucky - WARM). It oozes through the gaps between your toes. You scream out, Why God? Why?! 

And if you think this could not be worse, imagine this happening to a guest at your house. Unless you don't want this guest to return - ever.  


Aren't you glad I shared? Hopefully, you will not read this over your morning bowl of oatmeal. (Incidentally, perhaps this is why I refuse to eat oatmeal.)  

For those of you who haven't had the pleasure, meet Nacho. 

P.S If you ever actually do meet Nacho, do not expect him to act like this. You've been warned.