I believe the universe sends us signs. I don’t think it’s God because if there were a God I would have been born way richer or as an African lion–King of Beasts. Anyway, I do believe that little things that happen can be messages from the universe, so you can imagine my dismay when I rolled over in bed this beautiful Saturday morning right into a hairball. Wetness in bed is never good; it’s even worse when the wetness is mixed in with clumps of hair and feline vomit. Under no circumstances, even using the best creative thinking, could this be interpreted as a good sign. No, bad sign all around. Who the hell knows what this means for me, although I can’t help but feel I’m totally screwed in the game of life, in a gross, wet, hairy kind of way. At the very least I’m sure this will not be the last I’ve seen of vomit and hair. I once had someone vomit in my saucepan so come to think of it, this has been somewhat of a reoccurring theme in my life.
Draw your own conclusions, I guess. Aside from the metaphysical meanings of this event, it did remind me to write to the company that makes the Furminator and demand my money back, perhaps also asking for a few sets of queen sheets as well. Sigh … cough, puke.