“Whoa.”

I sit up in bed. It is 6:09 a.m. Nine minutes ago my alarm went off. And a bomb in my head.

“Whoa.”

I am dizzy. It’s dawn. There is a cat on my lap. Or possibly a walrus.

Me: “Tweak?”

Tweak: “Yes, it’s me. It’s always me.”

Me: “Did I get drunk last night?”

Tweak: “Only on macaroni and cheese.”

Me: “What’s wrong with me?”

Tweak: “Your birth certificate keeps getting older.”

I lie back down. This is good. Doing nothing is very good.

I close my eyes. Oh, this is even better. Darkness is salvation.

The walrus digs her nails into my hip. I sit back up.

Me: “Dang. I feel like I should have earned this much misery.”

Tweak: “Well, you DO make an intoxicating cheese sauce.”

Me: “But it’s not hangover-worthy.”

The walrus scratches an ear.

Tweak: “You should sleep some more. It’s a proven remedy.”

Me: “For what?”

Tweak: “For everything.”

I lie down. Carefully. Force myself back up.

Me: “I can’t. I have to feed the panda.”

Tweak: “Screw the panda.”

Me: “You don’t understand – if I don’t feed the panda, we lose the internet.”

The walrus shrugs.

Me: “If I don’t feed the panda, my car runs out of gas.”

The walrus licks a paw.

Me: “If I don’t feed the panda, no more nurdles.”

Tweak: “NOOOO!!”

The walrus explodes.

Tweak: “Get up! Get up, you fat cow! You got shit to do!”

Me: “You really need to work on your interpersonal skills, Tweak.”

Tweak: “Moo.”

I wrestle the sheets and climb out of bed. I am still dizzy for no rational reason, but there’s a panda to feed.

Me: “Eats.”

Tweak: “Shoots.”

Me: “I’m going, I’m going.”

Leaves.

 

6 August 2014, “Tolerating Tweak.”