Some of you may recall The Dire Illness through which I suffered (ungraciously) a couple of months ago, which necessitated the loan of a heating pad from my mother.  I was quite taken with this handy object, the modern equivalent of that Victorian staple, the hot-water bottle.  I have never been able to regulate the heat in my home at night to my satisfaction, and I find that my troubles are alleviated by turning my heat off completely at night, but having the heating pad on in bed. 

Of course, I then invite the new trouble of Happy Cats.  One of my cats has always slept with me, but now that I have a warm thing in the bed, I am quite smothered by all of my little friends.  I wake up in the middle of the night trapped and suffocating; anyone who has ever slept with a cat is well aware of the fact that they expand during the night, reaching peak weight and size at 2 AM.  They pin me down, purring.  There is no escape.  I may not survive another night.

Post Scriptum:  Recently I have begun a regimen of fish oil, as recommended by my doctor.  I didn’t realize you could get odor-free fish oil capsules, so I bought the regular kind.  I won’t go into too much detail, but I will simply say that if you take one of these things before you go to bed, you run the risk of having them … repeat on you a bit, with dire results.  This may also explain my newfound popularity with some of the more noticeably whiskery people in my house.