So, I'm at the computer, enjoying a nice breakfast of corned beef hash with a chives-and-sharp-Provolone omelet (really good, especially together), chasing Tam's cat, Random Numbers, off the desk about once every two minutes, when, all of a sudden, thump! Huck the giant tomcat appears on the desk and moves rapidly to a place of refuge behind the monitor, over which he ponders my plate and the rapidly-diminishing comestibles upon it--
--Just as Rannie leaps up and says A Very Bad Word, turning so she can A) Keep an eye on The Boy and B) Stay within grab-and-go range of my plate. But it's a cat standoff; she doesn't dare try for a stolen snack because she'll have to turn her back on Huck to go for it.
Across the room, Tam turns to see what her cat is cussing about. So I ask, "Hey, will you come sit on my desk, too? Might as well go for a clean sweep!"
The only thing better (worse) is the Smallest Room, about walk-in closet size, if that -- one of us in the shower, one us at the mirror, Huck hiding between the shower curtains waiting to attack and Rannie eeling about underfoot. I'm starting to get the least inkling of how a submariner feels.
T. R. MCELROY'S STREAMLINED TELEGRAPH KEYS
1 year ago