The other morning, DJ (my favorite kitty….ssshhh… don’t tell the others) crawled out from under the covers where he’d been sleeping so cutely all night long…
…and he climbed on top of my uncovered body, squatted down… and shit on my stomach.
Yes, Reader. Let that story soak in. Take a moment.
My Good-Morning-How-Do-You-Do began with a nice big pile of shit directly on my post-surgery-still-has-healing-wounds semi-naked belly.
The weight of him climbing on top of me was just beginning to awaken me, and I looked at him ready for more snuggling and then, as I was scratching is face, the smell wafted. I asked him if he was farting on me….
No. He was not.
And that’s when the screaming began.
KENNY!!!! DJ JUST SHIT ON ME!!!
Kenny, rolling over, “Huh, what, what’s going on?”
THE CAT JUST SHIT ON ME!! GET UP!! GET ME SOME PAPER TOWELS – STAT!!!
Because not only was I shat upon, but I couldn’t get up because then the shat would fall off of me and I’d have an even bigger and more disgusting mess to clean up, if you can believe that’s even possible.
I officially deserve some sort of an award for Remaining Still in the Face of a Crisis.
Kenny, slowly lumbering to his feet, still half asleep, started the long walk towards the kitchen for the paper towels.
Me: “Are you going all the way to the kitchen??? GET THE PAPER TOWELS FROM THE LAUNDRY ROOM FOR FUCKS SAKE!!” which is directly across from the bedroom.
Twenty bajillion hours later, paper towels arrived and I cleaned myself off, stripped off my pajamas, and jumped into the bath and took a Silkwood shower.
So that was Wednesday, Reader.
Luckily, just last Sunday I began a morning meditation of positivity and channeling your vibration to attract joy and abundance. Apparently it’s working because I did receive an unexpected abundance.
I’d like to say the week got better after this, but it did not. It has been a true exercise in affirming joy and positivity and gratitude every. single. morning. It is keeping me challenged.
DJ and I were not on speaking terms for several days.
Last night he came back to the scene of the crime.
He told me he was sleepwalking and in that hypnogogic state of hallucination when The Incident occurred. His words, Reader.
I accepted his explanation and his super soft tummy as his penance.
Forgiveness, Reader. It was just the Universe giving me a lesson in forgiveness, using a literal analogy that sometimes the thing you love the most will just shit all over you, but you have to learn forgiveness if you want to have love’s abundance.
*the last part, well, I’m just trying to make a good story here so I feel better about literally getting shit on before 8:00 a.m. in the morning. Not that any time is a good time for getting shit on, but if I was picking an awful time, the first worst time would be in the middle of the night, when you’re in a super-deep sleep and may not even know you’ve been shit on and roll around in it, and the second worst time to get shit on would be right as you’re waking up to greet the day. So now you know, if you’re asked to rank the worst to best times to get shit on. You’ll be prepared to answer.