The Lovely Cats got the flu on Friday. On Saturday, it was worse. She woke up feverish, hoarse and achy. The Tom Cat took the kids and the laundry. I took The Lovely Cats. By Sunday morning, her fever had broken. By Sunday afternoon, mine had risen. The Tom Cat took the kids and the laundry. The Lovely Cats took me. What a pair we make.
The Princess Kitten and I had a miscommunication. She thought I was awake. I thought I was asleep. My assessment of the situation was the more accurate of the two. Until she pounced. At which point, I was brought around to her way of thinking. Now, waking up is not something I do under the best of circumstances. Having the flu is not the best of circumstances.
She pounced, as kittens are wont to do. I, believing it a giant, mutant spider attack (which I KNOW is being planned against me), start screaming. The Princess Kitten, not knowing what was going on but suddenly hearing her beloved Aunt Mame screaming like a banshee, started screaming. The Lovely Cats, oblivious to the miscommunication taking place in the other room, only aware that suddenly we are screaming, starts screaming. I came to my senses first, which is saying something, and slowly the screaming stopped. Eventually, we will laugh about it. At the time, there was just screaming.
Eleven hours of sleep last night instead of the drive back to Boston and I'm human again. The Princess Kitten was glad to see me feeling better this morning and only a little disappointed that I had chosen a school day to recover. My laundry was done, courtesy of The Tom Cat. The Pobble Mobile has returned me safely to Boston. It wasn't the weekend any of us expected. But I'm sure we will be able to laugh about it all...in another ten years or so. ;)
Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.
1 comments:
do you think 10 years will be enough. glad i was sick with you; let's not do that next time.
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