I’ve woken up this morning with strange wounds on my stomach area.
It looks like, basically, I have been attacked by someone wielding the dreaded twelve-needles thing that they use to test your resistance before whatever jab it is that you get at school with “needles so big they go right through your arm”.
If I was a crazy person, I could have woken up and thought I had been abducted by some sort of higher being who has performed tests on me. But I know that any bright lights similar to being beamed up while in bed come from Carole’s new sports watch which illuminates occasionally as she sleeps because what’s better than the brightness of a flashbang grenade rousing you from your slumber?
It’s not that though.
The wounds come from Peppa’s fear of a packet of Monster Munch which I might have mentioned yesterday. I daren’t look to see the damage she’s done to the inside of my left thigh/periphery of my left testicle as it may be too upsetting. Especially as that hurt a lot more than the stomach wound, and the stomach wound is quite dramatic looking.
I’ll say that about cats. They’re neat.
When they’re not cleaning themselves constantly, or sleeping, they’re injuring their humans in parallel lines of equidistant wound tracts.
I’m quite impressed. As well as, you know, physically scared for life.
Or at least for a couple of days.