The "Sleep"-Over

Eight weeks ago, I moved out of the "family home." At first, when I'd leave work, it just felt wrong, felt like my heart was being ripped out with every step I took towards my apartment, away from Hubby, who works in the same building as me.

Now, not every step feels wrong. Usually by the time I'm halfway "home" I start looking forward to what I'll be doing when I get there. This is now especially true, since I've recently adopted a new cat, "Bijou". My evenings can now be completely full of "cat-adoration". No matter how little the phone rings or how sad I am, my kitty is happy to see me and loves my home-made cat food.

Yes, I make her real food. Not a by-product in sight. Yesterday's menu, for example, began with a filet of sole. I poached the filet in milk, with a few slices of onion to add a touch of flavour, and salt and pepper. Once the sole flaked lightly with a fork, I removed it from the pot. And I threw out the onions. Next, I added some oatmeal and a few kernels of corn and cooked them in the milk. When done, I pureed the oatmeal/corn/milk mixture and combined it with the fish. I tasted it, it was delicious, and Bijou couldn't get enough of it.

Tonight, I'll be braising beef shank, bone-in for extra flavour. In broth, not water. With garlic, bay leaf, perhaps a touch of Worcestershire. Oatmeal again in the liquid, and possibly some cheese, and chopped sprouts to add a bit of crunch.

At last, I have someone who LOVES my cooking!

Well, Hubby came over last night, for dinner, and he spent the night with Bijou and me. He too, enjoyed my cooking, though he did joke about being fed leftover cat food... Actually, I made him, from scratch, sweet & sour meatballs, served on rice with a side of asparagus. And I baked scones for dessert. A brief reminder of "Life With Hubby" came as he - I am not making this up - scolded me for putting the tops back on my scones the wrong way.

"They're misaligned," he complained.

"Hey!" I said. "It's a BISCUIT! For godssake, get a life!"

And then we did the dishes, had some ... romantic time... together, then, like a good married couple, turned our backs to each other and went to sleep.

Hah.

I heard him softly snoring most of the night. I wiggled and twisted, fluffed the pillow, turned this way and that, most of the night. Went to the bathroom about six times. He woke up frequently, but, being a man, was always able to fade back into dreamland.

Once, I almost began to actually nod off, when Bijou came over and walked along my legs to my chest and sat there staring quietly at me.

"How long is this going to go on?" she asked me politely.

"I beg your pardon," I queried.

"When are you going to throw this bum out so you and I can have our CUDDLE!?" she demanded.

"Well, Bijou, I can't throw him out now, darling! I invited him to spend the night!"

"So," came her cold sniff. "This man means more to you than I do, does he? I don't see what's so special. I mean, look at the room he takes up in the bed!"

I had to acknowledge the cat had a point here. For eight weeks, I've had the bed all to myself. It's not the most comfy bed in the world, but at least I could stretch out in it, stuff pillows in the hollow spots and get rested! Just not tonight. There was a man in my bed - a big one. And any time our limbs would touch by accident, he'd smile and throw a great big hairy arm around me and draw me close... a completely effective sleep preventative. God forbid I should end up face-to-face with him - his breath was like gale-force winds, blowing my hair around, going up my nostrils, drying out my eyes... If I should be on my back, the wind went straight into my ear. I'd lie on the other side as long as my muscles could stand it, but eventually I'd have to give that side a rest and the cuddling and the blowing would re-start.

"I don't take up any room at all!" said the cat. "And, I can purr!"

"Yes, you certainly can, little one," I said softly to her, scritching her behind her ears.

She wasn't mollified. "Well," she said, twitching her tail at me just before jumping down, "I'm going to sleep on the chair. There's no room here for a proper cuddle tonight!" And she held her head high as she sashayed over to the easy chair.

I received a poke in the ribs.

"You were snoring," said Hubby.

Sure I was.