I can't tell if I just woke up in a bad mood, or if getting on the scale this morning did it. It's way too early to be up, for one thing. But it's a Zumba morning. And I had another dream about Tiger. This time there were many other cats too. In the dream I was visiting my mother, who lived in an apartment. And I apparently just picked up this cat from a shelter, but it was Tiger. And I had trouble keeping her in the box. Just prior to this dream I had another dream about either Huckleberry or Squeakers. I was outside somewhere, on a big dirt hill, and the cat escaped. And I had to go down the hill and get him and then climb back up with him and put him in a box and into the car.
I got Tiger in a carrier, and then into the apartment. And suddenly all my other cats were there. I didn't have a litter box or litter. So I got ready to walk to the Albertson's a few yards away. For some very odd reason, I was putting plastic baggies on my feet. And then I woke up. And I'm not in a good mood.
I'm in one of those sad moods. I miss Danny. And I'm getting old. And I don't want to end up like my mother. And life is this awful thing and dying is both relief and horrifying. I know it will pass; it always does. But I have to endure it until it does.
Oh, and I couldn't get the damn heater in the bathroom to turn on and there's a beeping phone somewhere in the room.