A rose By Any Other Name
would smell as sweet...
This morning our bed was delivered. We have had the mattress for a few days but it was just sitting on the floor. Today we got the rest of the bed:
We are big fans of the leather headboard, as it gives some back support when sitting up to watch TV, read, or sumo wrestle.
The delivery involved keeping the front door propped open for long, unattended periods of time. What could possibly be wrong with that? I own three cats. Well, actually, I don't own three cats. I live with people who, cumulatively, own three cats. Two belong to my wife and one belongs to my brother-in-law, Brian, who is staying with us until the summer. Three cats and an unattended open door are not good combinations in my dog-filled neighborhood.
Upon realizing this, I proceeded to do a cat inventory. This is accomplished by taking a jar of cat treats and shaking it vigorously until all cats are accounted for:
*shake*shake*shake* In strolls Linda's cat Jerry...
*shake*shake*shake* In strolls Linda's cat Chestduh....
*shake*shake*shake* ....
*shake*shake*shake* ....
*shake*shake*shake* ?????
*shake*shake*shake* !!!!
Brian's cat was not responding. Brian's cat must have gotten outside. Donning a coat and an extra jar of cat treats I started looking in all the familiar exterior places. He wasn't in the bushes in front of the house. He wasn't under the deck. A scan of the neighborhood showed nothing... this was going to require some serious searching.
So, for the next 20 minutes I walked up and down the neighborhood, at 11am, shaking a can of cat treats and yelling his name.
Oh... his name... Brian named his cat "Fat Boy". In all fairness, the cat's name had been Hemmingway until he let himself go.
*shake*shake*shake* FAT BOY!
*shake*shake*shake* COME HERE, FAT BOY!
*shake*shake*shake* FAT BOY!
*shake*shake*shake* FAT FAT FAT FAT BOY!
I should be happy the elderly couple living nearby did not report a strange man, wearing sweatpants and a long coat, walking around the neighborhood, shaking a jar of candy and calling out to obese children.
20 minutes later I was back at the house, sans cat. My mind was going through how I would tell Brian his pet was AWOL... Maybe he wouldn't notice. Maybe, as in the new Jody Foster airplane movie, I could pretend that he had never even had a cat. Fat who? I even considered writing him a "Dear John" letter from the kitten, signed with a pawprint. It was with these thoughts that I re-entered the house -- the house I had searched top-to-bottom for 10 minutes -- to find our overweight object of attention plodding down the steps.
And so began my morning...
_Ed
This morning our bed was delivered. We have had the mattress for a few days but it was just sitting on the floor. Today we got the rest of the bed:
We are big fans of the leather headboard, as it gives some back support when sitting up to watch TV, read, or sumo wrestle.
The delivery involved keeping the front door propped open for long, unattended periods of time. What could possibly be wrong with that? I own three cats. Well, actually, I don't own three cats. I live with people who, cumulatively, own three cats. Two belong to my wife and one belongs to my brother-in-law, Brian, who is staying with us until the summer. Three cats and an unattended open door are not good combinations in my dog-filled neighborhood.
Upon realizing this, I proceeded to do a cat inventory. This is accomplished by taking a jar of cat treats and shaking it vigorously until all cats are accounted for:
*shake*shake*shake* In strolls Linda's cat Jerry...
*shake*shake*shake* In strolls Linda's cat Chestduh....
*shake*shake*shake* ....
*shake*shake*shake* ....
*shake*shake*shake* ?????
*shake*shake*shake* !!!!
Brian's cat was not responding. Brian's cat must have gotten outside. Donning a coat and an extra jar of cat treats I started looking in all the familiar exterior places. He wasn't in the bushes in front of the house. He wasn't under the deck. A scan of the neighborhood showed nothing... this was going to require some serious searching.
So, for the next 20 minutes I walked up and down the neighborhood, at 11am, shaking a can of cat treats and yelling his name.
Oh... his name... Brian named his cat "Fat Boy". In all fairness, the cat's name had been Hemmingway until he let himself go.
*shake*shake*shake* FAT BOY!
*shake*shake*shake* COME HERE, FAT BOY!
*shake*shake*shake* FAT BOY!
*shake*shake*shake* FAT FAT FAT FAT BOY!
I should be happy the elderly couple living nearby did not report a strange man, wearing sweatpants and a long coat, walking around the neighborhood, shaking a jar of candy and calling out to obese children.
20 minutes later I was back at the house, sans cat. My mind was going through how I would tell Brian his pet was AWOL... Maybe he wouldn't notice. Maybe, as in the new Jody Foster airplane movie, I could pretend that he had never even had a cat. Fat who? I even considered writing him a "Dear John" letter from the kitten, signed with a pawprint. It was with these thoughts that I re-entered the house -- the house I had searched top-to-bottom for 10 minutes -- to find our overweight object of attention plodding down the steps.
And so began my morning...
_Ed
posted by Ed at 2:52 PM
4 Comments:
Ya know, I would think your neighbors would be used to this behavior by now.
OMG - that's so sweet. I so want a king-sized bed. I told the hubby that it's a must when the second one comes along.
Enjoy!
8)
Indeed, the two best things about the new bed is the extra space (who knew 18 inches could mean so much!) AND the nicer mattress really isolates movement. When I toss and turn (which I do with much less frequency) Linda can't feel a thing.
I've had some pretty good sleeps this week.
-Ed
Phil,
You are very correct. My neighbors know that I am crazy. 8)
-Ed
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