Not to be outdone by my hand-slicing stunt, this morning at 2:30 a.m. Buddy woke us all up with his first grand mal seizure (that I've witnessed, anyway) in over two months. Beginning at the foot of the bed, he ultimately flew across the room, knocking Georgie off her perch by my head, turning on a lamp, yanking the lamp plug out of the wall, banging violently against the wall, and ending up in a pile of books.
We're still cleaning up the aftermath this morning and hoping we've all gotten It out of our systems for a peaceful, healthy Rest of Our Lives.
Unfortuately, though, somewhere in the midst of the excitement my bed seems to have sprung a leak and my one remaining non-folding-chair piece of furniture appears to be preparing to breathe its last.
Pathetic. But in the big scheme of Things, it's all good.