Wake up and smell the cinnamon hazelnut brew, sister!

Morning comes too early for me on most days.  I go to bed at a reasonable hour mainly due to the fact that even if I turn in late, dawn breaks and pushes my tuchus out of bed regardless of how exhausted I may be.  It sucks.  On rare occasions sleep will resume after a trip to the bathroom, but those instances are much like trying to catch a shooting star.  You see, my brain clicks on with the light of day and I'm unable to shut it down. You could say my mind has a mind of its own.  And lately, I have had too much on my mind ... excessive amounts of what ifs and why nots.

As I announced in my previous post, I have a young man staying with me for the majority of the summer.  He has family locally who are making plans with him, but Maison du Rissa is the base camp.  His comfort and happiness are partial contributors to my brain running on over time.  Giving him the unquestionable sense that he is welcome and loved is a priority.  He's still adjusting to the time change and jet lag. Other than what his father has told him about me and our relationship, I am a virtual stranger to him.  It's unfathomable for me to guess what is going through his mind as he acclimates to our environment. His dad reassures me that all will be well and I have nothing to worry about.  Ha!  As a result of this amazing boy staying with me, I was introduced to my friend's father (the boy's grandpa) FINALLY! I think I'm in love. He's the sweetest, most wonderful person on the planet.  He greeted me with a hug and a shower of gratitude. Plus, he informed me I looked exactly as he had imagined me.  Now I have to wonder just what my friend has told his father about me. *snort* No matter. Our house guest informed me that I'm as good as family now.  Yea! Score! Win for Riss.

On to the matter at hand.  It's ridiculously hot in the Midwest.  My home is central air conditioned but the spare bedroom, his room for the summer, was inexplicably built without an air vent.  Who does that? Anywho, his room gets toasty and we've had to make adjustments in the sleeping arrangements.  Because I wake at the crack of dawn, his second choice of bedding (the couch) wasn't conducive to my morning rituals. The couch may not be that comfortable, but the temperature is far better downstairs. Additionally, the felines were roaming free which meant incessant wake up howls from Silver.  She's tenacious in letting us know she wants to be in Mancub's room. However,  Mancub doesn't like to sleep with his bedroom door open.  He can sleep through the mewing when I cannot.  With our guest sleeping on the couch, I couldn't lock the cats downstairs in order to accommodate my desire for increased REM sleep. 

A real quandary I hadn't planned on needed to be addressed.

Last night Mancub and I moved the twin mattress from the spare bedroom to my bedroom floor.  He slept their while our guest made sleepy time in his (Mancub's) room -- one with a vent.  Against their wishes, the cats were relegated to the downstairs area. Now that they are accepting of our house guest, they have come out of hiding.  That's another tidbit that has been the cause of nocturnal disturbances.  Our felines do not welcome strangers with open paws.  Hissing, growling and sneering are common place when someone new comes knocking.  Yes, I said sneering.  Only when forced by nature's call or dire hunger do they come from their hiding spots.  When they do it's rather comedic.  Crawling on their bellies skimming the perimeter of the room like morphing cartoon characters attempting to be stealthy. 

Silver was the first to make a move toward being friendly. Either her curiosity got the better of her or she was just starving.  At one point they had a staring contest.  Eventually she'd flee but return to do more investigating.  Mo-mo, the elder tabby cat, was less friendly when she would descend the stairs to grace us with her cantankerous presence. She'd quickly nibble at the food dish and dash back upstairs but not without making her displeasure of a stranger's presence known.  Then, we had a break through Wednesday evening.  With both cats downstairs, we closed off the hallway door.  The boys were on opposite couches while I lay on the floor.  Amusing ourselves with impromptu voice overs, we watched "Toddlers and Tiaras." It's a heinous statement about covert child abuse, if you ask me, but I'm drawn to it like a moth to the flame or a redneck to NASCAR.  I had the boys doubled over with laughter as I did my Southern mama impressions -- "win Mama that crown or you ain't gettin' nuthin' but a switch!" Mo-mo reacts strangely to prolonged laughter.  She attacks the person laughing.  Weird, but true.  She'll bop us with her paw or get in our face and meow with contempt. This brought about contact with our guest.  With his hand extended out to her, she brushed against him.  Within minutes she was acting as if he'd been a part of her life forever. 

With that triumph! Perhaps a better night's sleep is feasible.  Well, that's if I could stop my mind from fighting with my heart over what it can and can't have.  And that is simply a battle my mind's mind will never win.