I wake up groggy, yawn and wonder if I’ll open my eyes to the dilated saucer stare of my cat. Nope, no sixteen pounds of kitty oppression sitting menacingly on my chest this morning. Damn, guess I have no excuse to stay in bed. Rolling over I fumble under my pillow to glance at my phone. There are some social media notifications but I can’t be bothered before poop and coffee, in that order. Rinsing off this flaky dried drool peeling from the corner of my lips and cheeks is probably a good idea too.
meoOoow
“Nah, screw you cat.” You want to be a roadblock that takes up half of this three-foot wide hall, so be it. I’m not letting you watch me poop today. Quickly side-stepping the chunky, soot black furd (furry + turd, i.e, the cat) I slip into the bathroom and shut the door. Placing a finger on the circular beveled edge of the hot water faucet knob I lightly slide a half-circle clockwise, on the cold water knob, a quarter-circle counter-clockwise. A quarter slide from the front of the top of the spout to the back gets the water running. The temperature is perfect. I splash my face once, twice, mmm…a third time. Slowly I’m warming up to today.
“Ok, Google, play The Girl From Ipanema.”
I don’t bother to towel off. Two quick taps on the faucet stops the running water. Studying the stubble framing my face I try to remember if I have any reason to shave today. A glance at the bottom right of the mirror tells me there’s nothing on my calendar for today. No appointments. No errands. No-
meoOow
-Christ, help me or that cat is gonna get stuffed into the can its food comes in!
How can I tell her, “I love you?”
Yes, I would give my heart gladly
I guess today I’ll tell her by not mushing her cat into a cannibalistic serving of Friskies. A steel-blue tinted sun and some numbers to the right of my face are hinting I should get past this gloom and dress for warm weather. Are boxers sufficient for the day? Probably not. I’ve gotten too hungry to cook, so I’ll have to go get something to eat. If girls can go out in those little booty shorts, why can’t I go out in my boxers? It has a button over the pee-hole.
“Ok, Google, open Pizza-Hut.” I stab the “Reorder” button just above my shoulder and then confirm the order for pick-up. ‘Tis bless-ed, to sleep in until eleven. I crack open the door and drop my boxers as I sit. Sure enough, there he is a moment later, nuzzling his head between the door and frame. Sauntering over he sits at my feet and proceeds to sniff my toes. Monday’s. I swear.
“Hey! Hey!” No meow’s this time. He’s got those saucer eyes again and I know what he’s thinking. He wants to jump on my exposed, tender, fleshy thighs. Without breaking eye contact I reach behind the toilet and pick up the plunger. I can do this. I won’t lose this time. His haunches are lowered and his butt is wiggling, ears folded back. He’s only half extended on his rear legs when I give him a face full of plunger and send him tumbling backwards into the magazine basket.
Yeah, today is gonna be a good day.
This piece of fiction inspired by my sister’s cat, my love for pizza and over sleeping, and this awesome smart mirror: https://medium.com/@maxbraun/my-bathroom-mirror-is-smarter-than-yours-94b21c6671ba#.doy6j8b0o
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