You should see the other guy.

Alright, so I've been a lousy blogger. I could list many reasons why I haven't updated, but they're all lame.

Anyway, I got a nice little wake-up the other day from my cat. I like to keep a glass of water by the bed at night. It's usually in a bottle or other spill-proof container because my cat Vincent likes to drink out of people glassware, even though he has plenty of his own fresh water.

I felt him climb up onto the pillow to get at the glass, which was on the windowsill behind my head. Not wanting him to knock over the glass, as he has been known to do, I lifted him up and over my head. I'm not sure why, but it was 5 a.m. and I wasn't thinking clearly.

He squirmed and overbalanced in my hands, kicking out with his back legs and accidentally planting a good one across my right cheek. He still has his back claws, so it was quite painful. I yelled and tossed him away, cursing. I chugged the water in the glass and laid back down on the pillow.

Lifting my head up, I noticed a big streak of blood on my pillowcase. I ran to the bathroom mirror and discovered I had a huge gash on my cheek. Not deep enough for stitches, but it was significant. I cleaned it with hydrogen peroxide and applied a styptic pencil to stop the bleeding.

"Well, I'm up," I said as I shuffled into the kitchen to make coffee.

The good thing is that it looks kind of bad-ass, so I've been telling people I got into a knife fight over the weekend, in a story involving multiple attackers and a damsel in distress.