An Easter Miracle

Though Jesus rose on Sunday, Mister Fred did not. According to this photo, however, he was trying to roll away my blanket with his paw.

Sometimes, nice things happen. I slept until about 10 a.m., and it was blissful.

Head Snoring, Check it and See

Mister Fred has been pretty good the past two days with letting me sleep, and he hasn't done anything that is that far beyond the regular realm of cat craziness (at least not that I've caught on film). However, I have been waking up a lot with fur in my mouth, because he has been hanging awfully close to my head in the last moments of the morning. This particular morning, after a late night of working (and fretting over my life), I was awakened by vibrations of the very heavy variety (along with light sleep-meowing). I snapped this photo without much set-up, and am glad it captures the spirit of the event:

Princess Freddy

Mister Fred is sitting atop a lavender throw pillow like the royalty that he wants to be tonight. Unfortunately, he is throwing me irritated "I'm-faking-this-sleep-thing-to-save-up-energy-to-keep-you-up-all-night-again" glances, so likely this pleasantry is all a ruse and a foreshadowing of the sleepless night that is to come.

Plus, he's so anti-fancy that any attempts to appear dignified don't really land convincingly:

He Will Haunt Your Dreams

Sometimes, Mister Fred lets me sleep. It usually coincides with nights after I've left him alone for extended periods. Since I spent the night in Brooklyn Friday night, he was happy to see me when I returned, a happiness that lasted until exactly 8:46 a.m. this morning, when he started to craft ways to once again infiltrate my thoughts. The peace was nice while it lasted, and I will end my week having had two good nights of sleep in a row. Still, I wake up in a cold sweat rather often because of this face:

Sleep with One -- or Both -- Eyes Open

Mister Fred managed to only work half the night, so I got a pleasant surprise of about three hours of uninterrupted sleep (even though I was still up eight times, and had to relegate him to the bathroom four of those times). This is the scene now: I actually thought he was angry and awake, but he's having a "desperately complacent" moment. I picked him up, and he sort of flopped out of my hands, but the look on his face is tormented and dangerous:



Apparently, though his eyes are open, he is asleep. Oh, those glossy, dead-alive eyes ... chilling.