My nipples explode with delight...not.

I slept amazingly well last night thanks to two chlorphenamine maleate tablets I munched before going to bed. Some nasty little critter decided to bite me earlier in the evening. Damned biting things. I get bitten a lot. Living as I do in the middle of the heavily wooded, swamp-like remnants of an old quarry, home is a haven for all sorts of biting creatures. Stray the Super-Midget* never seems to get bitten. Nor does Badger. Just me. All the little biting things LOVE me. But I don't love them. I'm no fan of inter-species loving...

A few days ago I woke up at about 6am to find the cat berating me for not having fed it. Nothing too unusual here. The cat frequently comes in after a long hard night out in the deepest, darkest swamp. Half dazed, my mind wandered back to the previous evening, which I had a spent cavorting round London with a rather lovely young man. And then I felt a rather strange sensation - a weightiness coupled with something bristly on my chest. I wondered if I was still asleep, but decided the recognition that a day's work beckoned made this unlikely. So, if I wasn't still asleep and subject to random subconscious stuff, what WAS that? I opened my eyes, somewhat reluctant to admit that they day had indeed begun, and was shocked and horrified to discover that the unusual sensation was caused by the afore-mentioned cat attempting to obtain breakfast from my right nipple. Licking. Nibbling. With teeth. Ouch. Owwwwch! Not to mention the "Eeeeew" factor. Ick! Eeeeeeek!

The said cat found itself flying unceremoniously through the air shortly afterwards, projected by my good self. This would have been a fine plan of action on my part had the cat released my nipple of its own volition prior to being thrown across the room. Sadly, this was not the case and the pain which shot through my chest as the cat was forced to release my nipple during its high-velocity flight alerted me to the fact that perhaps my ability to make sound decisions based on good judgement is rather lacking prior to consuming my morning mug of coffee.

I am pleased to report there are no signs of lasting damage to myself or the cat.

*That's Super-Midget in the sense of being somewhat larger than an actual midget. Stray's not quite a midget, though a decent argument could be proposed for being super. She's just a bit small for the purposes of being a person, but I thought "Super-Midget" was a better, kinder description than "Sub-Human".