I knew it would happen one day. But did I DO anything about it? Of course not. That would make too much sense.
What the heck am I talking about you ask? (Don't deny it, I heard you).
Well, it all started in 1987. Yep. Over twenty (oh, gad, really?) years ago not only was I suckered into various Tupperware, Pampered Chef, Crystalware and Mary Kay parties, I actually attended a "Plant Party"... the highlight of which was when I miraculously won the door prize. My trophy for enduring yet another night of How Much Can I Spend On Crap I Don't Need To Still Be Considered A Good Friend was a blue bowl of not-really-silk, silk flowers.
Because it is blue and my bedroom had blue in it, I plopped it up on the headboard of our waterbed that night when I arrived home (I know... am I a designer maverick or what?) and there it has sat ever since.
But then along came not one, not two but three cats. And as any cat owner will attest to, cats adore high places. The higher, the better. Ours love our waterbed headboard. It's wide and sturdy, a purrfect place to stretch, to nap, to sit regally surveying their Kingdom or to protect their throne by pacing. Back.
And back again.
With stopovers to inexplicably smell the omnipresent not-really-silk silk flowers obstructing their otherwise clear path along the way. The only problem is even though they squeeze in-between it and the wall, with each pass the heavy bowl gets bumped a titch closer to the edge. An ominous sight when your exposed sleepy noggin is laying defenseless directly beneath it.
And as I feared, it finally happened. Yesterday after hubby had left for work and I was laying in bed, lazily planning out what to
avoid accomplish on my vacation day, the feline equivalent to "King Of The Castle" resumed. The battle became intense with spitting and hissing and of course, culminating in the inevitable knocking of the bowl right off its lofty perch.
I looked up in the nick of time. And to my amazement, I caught it just inches from my head. I couldn't believe it! There it sat in my hand as Tawnee, Sheba and Dakotah beelined it out of the room to continue the war down the hallway.
Living with felines must have rubbed off on me. I've got the reflexes of a cat.
So now the bowl has finally, after 22 years, been banished from the headboard. I think I need to get something a titch less "80s" and a tad less blunt-instrument deadly.
After all, I may not be
awake so lucky next time.
Wanna know more?
Click the "About Me" tab above.
Wanna read more?
Click below for the Archives.