Let's cut straight to the punch in the face you're wondering about, shall we? I wish I had an incredible tale of heroism or even a scandalous brawl outside of a club during which I took off my over-sized hoop earrings and stilettos to hand to one of "mah gurrrls". Instead, I must tell you that Boone punched me in the face. With his head. At full speed. While I was sleeping. It was kind of terrifying and definitely a terrible way to be woken up on a Sunday morning!
I only have myself to blame. We adopted him at five months old, and he's been my baby ever since. Mr. TBS says he is mine. This is only true because he likes to be nurtured, and I baby him, incessantly. I've always let him rub his head against my face in my attempt to coddle him the way a feline mommy would, and he never grew out of it. This behavior of love was used as a weapon. He rammed his forehead with great force right between the bridge of my nose, my eye, and my cheek bone. Ow! I'm almost positive that he jumped up at the foot of the bed and ran straight for my face.
The assault was followed by excessive cuddling... and no bruising, thank God.
Other happenings of the weekend:
Whit stopped by my local farmers market, and then we perused the antique shops across the street.
I came across this Brothers Grimm story in one of the antique shop books. I couldn't help but laugh! Undoubtedly, The Table, the Ass, and the Stick would not be received the same way it was back in 1812.
Pool party for one! One of my best friends noted that I am a "soon meme" waiting to happen. If Boone punches me in the face again, it will happen.
I dreaded going to the mall, but a crisp drink and Amy Winehouse tunes brightened the quick trip.
I got a gift from my friend in Germany! TEA! I felt pretty fancy. Thank you, Dixie!
Proof that Boone can sleep anywhere, especially since he doesn't have to worry about being head-butted awake.
duck punk. May your week be wonderful and punch-free, my friends!