Any other morning, my cats will walk on me, stomp on me, headbutt me, body slam me, sit on me, and otherwise make complete pests of themselves until I get out of bed to feed them, preferably around 4 in the morning and long before I truly need to be coherent, let alone moving.
But the morning I need to get up extra early for work and the batteries in the alarm clock died and I really need their furry butts to wake me up?
Not. One. Cat. Woke. Me. Up.
They did it on purpose. I know they did. All three of them chuckled behind their fuzzy paws as they watched me oversleep by an hour and a half this morning, suddenly bursting out of bed like I was on fire when I realized how late it was, stumbling around to get ready as I yelled at them, “Any other morning you wouldn’t let me sleep!” over and over.
Welcome to Monday morning.