Help My Nongue is in a Tot

Woken on yet another sweltering night from a mere half hour's sleep, by the wailing shrieking and eerie howling of neighbouring cats, I lay sweating and thinking of this evening's prior quacktice.

Aware vaguely that there was something wrong with that thought, I realised that the late lamented and much quoted Dr William Spooner and I had things in common.

It was he who when spotting his cat stuck high in a tree, called it and remarked that "it popped on its little drawers and was down in a trice".

A day or two ago I remarked to someone who was holding a long, tedious conversation with me on my doorstep that I had a "cot of poffee" waiting.

Somewhere I read a while ago of an evangelist who had "waved the Pay" for those who came after.

Why does the mind do this I wonder?  Is it aware that the body which is host to its meanderings is in need of entertainment?

Is it part of that same process which causes one to use an apparently random noun to complete an otherwise perfectly sensible sentence?

The thing which makes us say "I'm just off to catch my book", when we meant the bus to the library.

The older I get, the more aware I become that our mental 'timers' can very easily fall out of sync, so that while the conscious part of the brain is thinking one thing, the mouth - vehicle of the thought process - is doing something else entirely.

Sorry, I'm rambling.

Well it is the middle of the night.

The bed should have cooled down by now so will return and sly to treep!