One of THOSE days

I was having trouble sleeping, which is not usually a big deal since I don't have a day-job, and can sleep whenever I want or need to and so I don't stress out when it happens. I think I was awake from 1:30 to 3 or so. The cats always find it amusing when this happens and pile on. I listened to some podcasts and hovered in and out of sleep. I dreamt that someone was ringing my doorbell, that I got out of bed to see who was at my door in the middle of the night--but then I realized I hadn't actually got out of bed, that I'd just dreamt it. And that I don't have a doorbell so obviously no one was ringing a doorbell at 3am.

Finally, I got to sleep--and Puffy, right next to me, starts throwing up in bed.

I have three blankets piled on and I just rolled down the top blanket to keep the puke off us. I started to fall asleep. He started trying to bury his puke. SIGH.

The sucky thing is that there's a 5-foot snowdrift against the back of my house where my dryer vent lets out, so I will need to snowshoe around to the back of my house to dig it out if I want to do laundry. I imagine it'll be kind of like digging a grave--I can pretend I'm on Supernatural and I'm gonna "burn the bones." I don't feel like it, but I also don't want to need to use a laundromat until the spring thaw.

I haven't quite worked up the motivation yet. At least I will feel justified in the purchase of the snowshoes I "never use" according to my ex.