I sat up. The cat took off through the house. She had food, she had water, she had no interest in anything I could provide, it merely violated her sense of propriety that I was still asleep. James was up! She was up! The little birds were all up! Why wasn't I up?!
Like Arthur Dent at the beginning of Hitchhiker, a phrase wandered across my brain looking for something to connect to. Unlike Arthur Dent, the phrase was "Man, I like Vin Diesel." No clue how that got there. (I do rather like Vin Diesel, mind you, cheesy sci-fi geek that I am, but it's not something I generally think about unless there's a movie actually on.)
I had a dream about getting lost in the barrio and finding a little cafe staffed by part-time strippers, which had food all named after Shakespeare's plays. I was escorted out of the barrio by a sort of modern day Zorro who told me kindly that this was not a good place for nervous looking white chicks, and wound up back at a hotel, where an old boyfriend from over a decade ago yelled at me, and I had to sit through a support group meeting for relatives of people killed in the 9/11 bombing, who thought they were shapeshifters.
All in all, perhaps the cat did me a favor...
Edit: And then I went out to the mailbox and there was a nice little royalty check there. So that made everything better.