I'm gonna eat your brains!

Due to a must-finish task taking much longer than expected, I went to bed about two hours later than I prefer -- which is already about an hour later than I probably should go to bed. Just as I was drifting off, a thunderstorm crept up on the house. I love to be lulled to sleep by the sound of rain on the roof and grumbling thunder, and so I was pleased. For about ten minutes. Then the storm morphed into this epic, Apocalyptic deluge.

I didn't mind, but the dog sure did. He spent the next forty days and forty nights pacing from the bedroom to the hallway to the bathroom to the bedroom to the hallway. He whined. He looked concerned. He pawed at the pet gate. I got up to try to convince him to come in and lie on the bed with us. More pacing and whining. MB got up to try to convince him to come in and lie on the bed. More pacing and whining. Then the cat decided to play along, and he started pawing at the damn pet gate.

So there I am, at this point three hours past my bedtime, listening to a lullaby of GRUMBLE CRASH / whine whine whine / rattlerattlerattle / pace pace whine whine / rattlerattle. And of course instead of enjoying the thunder and the pounding rain, I lay there awake contemplating which pet would make the best pair of fuzzy mittens. I didn't get to sleep until the storm finally passed and the dog finally recollected the tattered threads of his lost shit, and by that point I think it was about 3:30 in the morning.

If you hear any shuffly, moany zombie noises this morning, do not fret. It's only me and my lovely new mittens.