Let’s talk about the shape my head is in.
No, I’m not referring to its slightly flat affect, near the top, there in the back, although the flat bit makes lying face up remarkably comfortable.
Nor should we discuss my uncanny ability to work a dirty joke into almost any conversation – which is something of a talent, by the way, and one I learned, over the years, to use when situationally appropriate and not at, say, office holiday parties or Christmas dinners…
I’m talking about the headache I’ve got, right now, the one that kept me from work Monday, the one that kept me from eating all day but did not stop me from having a bowl of ice cream before bed.
When’s the last time you spent a whole day on a couch? I did, Monday; and here’s what I noticed:
I noticed that the cats have a schedule. It seemed to upset both Liza Bean Bitey (of the Minneapolis Biteys) and Dolly Gee Squeakers (formerly of the Humane Society Squeakers) that I hadn’t gone to work; and they demanded appeasement in the form of catnip shooters and unrestricted lap time.
And speaking of lap time, I watched Dolly, passed out and on her back, run in her sleep, her fuzzy little paws reaching, her little legs pumping. What does she dream of? Slow mice? Low-flying birds? Being an only kitty?
I noticed that while I did not feel good enough to put on make-up I did feel well enough to dig out the last of my Crest Whitestrips and spend 30 minutes whitening my teeth.
I noticed that Maury Povich has not yet run out of women looking for the fathers of their babies.
I noticed that I was watching Maury Povich.
And once I turned that off, I noticed the sublime silence of an empty house. A kitty on the floor, batting absentmindedly at a shoelace; a kitty lying on her back, asleep, paws twitching; the ticking of a clock in the next room; the sound of a lawnmower a couple blocks over.
And then I slept.
There are many ways to define a lovely day.
Eight in Some: Sunday, February 18
5 hours ago