So I was lying in bed this morning, enjoying a series of those lovely deep dozes that make the time between snooze alarms seem like hours, and planning my next blog entry. I had a fabulous idea for a longer, humorous essay-type entry, the kind of thing I love to write and that I hope you love to read. And while there is always the chance that my idea was the sort of thing that seems fabulous when I’m half asleep and turns out to be an eddic saga about stainless steel kangaroos smuggling neutron bombs disguised as loaves of banana bread in their pouches, I’m pretty sure it was something real and writable.
And then crash-endo-endo-endo…
I was out of bed and halfway down the stairs before I really woke up, and there was Amelia Kitty staring up at me with googly eyes. And then she sat down and started to lick her leg and I knew she had been responsible for….whatever it was.
And it was nothing downstairs. Upstairs, however, I found Zeke’s travel cage on the floor, sprung all apart, and the dry food that, yes, I had left in it from the last time he was boarded, scattered across the carpet. So I had to pick all that up and go downstairs and get ready for work.
And of course the neat blog entry idea I had — or didn’t, in the case of the neutron-banana bread-smuggling stainless steel kangaroos — was driven out of my head and lost for eternity. Stupid cat.