2003-10-30
Loser
I lose things constantly.
When I say "lose," I mean I put things down and forget where I've left them. "Finding" "lost" items usually consists of OPENING MY EYES.
Here's the problem. I cannot rest until I've found the misplaced object. Sometimes the misplaced object is a CD or a checkbook. Other times, it's an animal, like, say, a big, gray, bitchy cat.
Said feline enjoys hiding, particularly in the basement. It's cold, damp and rather dirty in my cinderblock cellar, and I don't particularly want her spending the night in that 'ell'ole. Each night before retiring to my bedchamber, I check to make sure the cats haven't gone into the basement. I close and lock the swinging door that separates the kitchen, back hall and basement from the rest of the house. The cats follow me up the stairs and while I brush my teeth, they proceed to curl up in the exact spot on the bed where I was planning to lay my tired head. This is the usual routine.
Once in a while, Bitchy Cat will hide. Somewhere. Anywhere. Occasionally she becomes the David Copperfield of the household with her little disappearing act. Unfortunately, I can't rest until I see her big bitchy self and I know for a fact that she's not stuck in the cold damp basement developing kitty rheumatism or TB. I check under beds, and in closets whose doors have not been opened for weeks. I revisit hiding spots and call her name. Only when I shake the treat jar (my last resort) does she show her face, with a look that says, "Oh, were you looking for ME? Well, what. evah."
Bitchy cat. God, I love her.
joeparadox at 4:50 p.m.