I'm pretty tired today because I didn't sleep so well last night. I'm visiting my parents this week and I brought my pets with me. That means, when it is time for sleeping, I share my old bedroom with two cats and a dog that is big enough for a child to ride. Surprisingly, Sawyer (the dog), is the quietest of the three. He flops himself down in a corner and is asleep fairly quickly. Kat (aka Justice), the smallest of my cats is also fairly quiet. Now Tucker, on the other hand, is quite large and quite loud. When I come into the room he seems to feel the need to show me just how much he is capable of eating. While his eating accomplishments are indeed quite impressive, the middle of the night is just not the time to showcase them. After about the third trip to the food bowl in only twice as many minutes last night, I decided he would not starve before morning and moved the food bowl out of his reach. Tucker was unfazed by this and moved on to a new activity: attempting to set a record for the most ruckus caused while in a litter box. So I put up with his banging and digging for several minutes until he finally finished his business. I thought that maybe then I could finally get some quiet. I got settled down in bed, closed my eyes, and then what felt like at least 17 cats ran across me. Tucker had decided that my bed was the quickest route to travel from one window to the other, and apparently he was following something outside because he kept the path hot. By this time, all the commotion had caused it to become quite warm in my room. I finally gave up and Sawyer and I moved to the couch in the den to let Tucker have his wild party in the bedroom.
This afternoon I had the pleasure of going to the dentist. It was just a routine checkup, but I certainly wouldn't call it fun. Nothing particularly bad happened, I just hate the dentist. I admit that I used to hardly ever floss, so a trip to the dentist meant bloody gums and flossing lectures. In recent years I have changed my ways. I have become diligent in my flossing endeavors, and floss almost every day. The dentist refuses to believe this. He looks down upon me with doubting judgmental eyes, even though the positive effects of my flossing shine bright and clear. It's like he suspects me of using some form of dark magic to remove debris from between my teeth. "Are you flossing?" he asks. "Almost every day!" I reply. "Hmmmm," he responds, jealous of my mystical arcane abilities. Anyway, I made it through another checkup, and thankfully no problems were found.
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