Late-night shenanigans, a special birthday, and lazy cats

We know that something totally crazy is about to happen to us. We are listening to the last few clicks of the ratchet as the roller-coaster car reaches the top of the hill ...

In the past few months, Greta has been getting up at least twice a night to pee -- sometimes as many as four times! And once in a while, she finds herself unable to get back to sleep. (This is caused by anxiety, I believe.) So she pokes me and says, "Jimmaaaa ... I can't sleeeep." And then I mutter, "It's okay, Greta ... don't worry about it ... just relax ..." Somehow, this always does the trick, and she falls asleep again immediately.

Last night, though, she dropped her water bottle.

A brief digression: Greta, having perhaps been a princess in her last life, needs many accouterments for her nightly repose. She needs a full bottle of water (with the cap on, so that the cats don't knock it over and spill the contents), a box of tissues (for late-night sneezing attacks), and her sleep mask (so that she can get back to sleep if she wakes up after sunrise). As her house elf, it is my job to make sure that all of these items are in their proper place at bedtime.

The bottle fell down behind our bed, which is pushed up against a wall. This made retrieving it challenging. I immediately got down onto the floor and started to crawl under the bed (naked ... sorry for putting that mental image into your brain), when I suddenly had an attack of claustrophobia (unusual for me). I quickly backed out and considered another line of attack. I climbed over Greta ("Don't step on me!" she said) and got between Seamus' co-sleeper and the wall. My plan was to crouch down there and grab the water bottle, but I was wedged in so tightly that I could barely move. Greta rolled her eyes. "That's not going to work," she said.

So I ordered her off the bed (a command the she fulfilled with a fair amount of effort ... it's not easy to rise from a prone position when nine month's pregnant) and pulled it out from the wall. In a moment, I had retrieved the bottle, put the bed back into place, and we were both back under the covers. "Happy Birthday," I muttered, before re-entering unconsciousness.

Happy Birthday, Greta Ann! I hope that Seamus is as cute as you were:


Meanwhile, the cats are patiently awaiting the new arrival. Actually, they're not patient, they're just lazy. And they have no idea what's about to happen to their comfortable little world ...