Okay. Yesterday morning, as I lay in comfortable somnolence with Loveycat, there was no indication that anything was amiss. I here insert an unladylike snort of derision.
Granted, my living situation is far from idyllic, shared as it is with a family to whom I am not related in any way and have no interest in being same. The house, in point of fact, is a shambles, and i live here only because the direst of personal circumstances made it my only option. But, I digress.
As Loveycat purred comfortably on my chest and I drowsily stroked her chin, the shelf over my bed fell upon me. And, almost on Lovey. She left large gouges in me as she bolted in terror.
There was no warning crack or rumble. No sound of any sort. Just a heavy shelf, falling upon us and dragging many boxes down in its wake.
Huh. Do you think the house is trying to tell me something?
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