Tragedy Strikes! Triply!

Tragedy #1: The case of the overambitious haircut

I wanted it to be like last time I cut it, when I thought it was too short but then actually it was cute, and like this:
But instead of accidentally doing a great job while stoned and having no idea what it would look like (see picture above, again), I was sober, thought I was totally in control, and ended up overcutting it so it's short n fluffy, like this:I mean, it's OK, in a third-grade-teacher-who-wears-turquoise kind of way. Even though it's just as choppy-layered as exhibit a, because it's too short it just adds to the fluff factor. Fortunately, hair is the kind of thing that grows.

Tragedy #2: I have no left arm

So I woke up last night around 4am in the middle of some kind of funny dream, and when I woke up I remembered the dream, but then I was distracted by the fact that I had woken up because something seemed to be wrong with my left arm. Specifically, it wasn't there. I couldn't feel it, at all.

I sat up, and looked over and it was to my surprise still attached, but I couldn't move it, and when I reached across to grab it with my right hand, I didn't feel my own fingers around my forearm. It was like a disgusting rubbery fake arm attached to my body, all limp and panic-inducing.

So I sat there for a minute and concentrated really hard on wiggling my fingers, which started to work, and then I could move my wrist around, and then my arm came back to me, slowly. After a couple of minutes I got some pins and needles in my hand, and could once again feel things all up and down my arm.

I think I must have been sleeping in such a way as to have pinched off the nerve, somehow, because even when the circulation is gone you still get the pins and needles business, but this was just dead. And terrifying.

My arm still feels a little funny today, just the slightest little tingle all up and down itself, as if it had a bit of champagne with breakfast.

I was scared to go back to sleep.

Tragedy #3: Sahlins got a big ol' butt

Apparently too big for his catbox, because he keeps peeing over the edge. Repeetedly. Like, every time.

All of this is taking place in my lovely new room, with its lovely wood floors, which now smell like lovely sahlins urine.

I am going to go shell out for one of those walled-in monstrosities, fer my little pissmonster. I loves the aminals, but jesuchristo sometimes they are a pain in the big ol' butt.