Splitting Hairs

"If [a man's] wit be not apt to distinguish or find differences, let him study the schoolmen; for they are splitters of hairs"
Sir Francis Bacon

This morning I woke up at 5.30am and started to eat my sleeping cushion. I can't do this quietly because it involves some ripping and tearing. In my head, I am killing a great big pink creature that has 'woof' written on it. That fluff that comes out? Innards. It's innards.

This morning I tried to eat these innards. This, for some reason, did not agree with me. I was nearly sick.

Consequently, I woke aprecious up at 5:45am. Given she didn't go to sleep until 12:30am, and had already woken at 4:00am thinking it was morning she wasn't wildly happy about my heaving noises.

This morning, aprecious said that she thought border collie puppies are supposed to be intelligent and surely I can tell the difference between cushion stuffing and innards? She says there is not an animal anywhere on the planet that is bright pink with the words 'woof' on it. For the record.

I hate it when she splits hairs.