Monday, June 22, 2009

Cat favors.

This is one of those stories that sounds like I'm drunk, but seriously...
The last thing I do before I leave for work every morning is to make sure I have my wallet. You may remember this item I purchased a while ago, because I don't carry a "real" wallet, but got tired of misplacing credit cards and/or my driver's license. I'm sort of scatterbrained. I blame alcohol, the cause of and solution to all of life's problems.
Anyway, this morning I realized that I hadn't seen the thing since Sunday, but I didn't have enough time to look for it unless I wanted to be late for work. The shock left me dumbfounded, so I left the house with nine dollars in cash and a lot of anxiety.
When I got home tonight, I tore the place apart looking for it, to no avail. I checked my accounts and made sure no one had absconded with my tens of dollars, so I felt like I was left with nothing but to replace the scattered shards of my life, which included my driver's license, gas card, credit card, ATM card and another debit card. That's a lot of stuff, and since I was down to the five bucks I found in a hampered pair of jeans, things were getting interesting. It also told me that the thing was here someplace. I searched the car (twice) and even emptied the trash can, in case it dropped off the kitchen counter. Nope.
Ironically, I bought the thing because I got tired of losing random cards. The result now is that I have lost all of them, so what did that solve exactly?
Alternately, I kept searching and collapsing in the sofa in despair. Energizing breaks. The cat wandered around, and I lamented that he couldn't help me. I picked him up, because animals are comforting, and told him that I wished he could help me, because he seems to pay more attention to what I do than I do - and that's a strange request to make of a cat. It's also why I continue to believe that married people will live longer than single people. But I digress.
I put the cat down, and started to crawl around the floor after him. It's not something I'm particularly proud of, but desparate times call for desparate measures. There are only so many places it could have been, and it isn't like a jungle in here, so a clear floor only has so many places to stash things. Plus, gravitationally speaking, it would seek its lowest level, which here, means the floor.
As I crawled the floor after the cat, (strange, I know) I stumbled on my nearly empty gym bag and decided to take one more swipe for the missing pieces of my life.
Pretending to be a cat turned out to be an effective method of finding something, getting me a good night's sleep and making me even happier that I have a furry friend to help me around the house.
He has no idea.

1 comment:

susan said...

"Pretending to be a cat lover"? you are! Don't fight it. Your kitty rocks!

And he is some handsome boy cat besides.