The best laid schemes o' Mice an' Men, Gang aft agley,
The best laid schemes o' Mice an' Men,
Gang aft agley,
8 July 2011
I had today all planned out. You’d think I’d know better.
I’d brewed my morning “Make me Human” cup of coffee. I sat on the couch to await the transformation from unspeakable Wake Up Monster, when Nikki Cat rushed back into the house (having been Owwt all of five minutes). In his some-ancestor-was-a-Siamese voice, he yowled his way to the dining room. And then he quieted down.
Being as I was not coffee-dosed yet, I ignored the cardinal rule of small children, cats, and husbands: If they are quiet for more than two minutes, for pity sake investigate.
I’d made it halfway through the coffee when Nikki yowled his way back ‘Owwwt’. My brain creaked into action. I checked under the dining room table. Our once mostly feral cat had learned to eat in the dining room. The Prince Consort stepped up as a fellow male. He scrubbed up the mice guts and blood.
Nikki Cat will Not be coming back inside in the mornings until I’ve had enough caffeine to keep up.
Today was run errands day with The Prince Consort. Once again the errands ran over into lunchtime. So the eternal ‘Where do you want to eat. No, where do you want to eat. I asked first.’ discussion started. Inspiration struck me as we drove past a certain chicken fast food chain that was having a free sandwich giveaway if you dressed like a cow day. I was all for stopping at the nearby big box store for some make up so I could affect a tasteful black cow nose and a sprinkling of attractive cow spots, face only.
TPC was having none of it. Apparently he’s not forgotten that I did indeed wear the lampshade into the returns department at the hardware store. We had burgers two blocks away from the chicken fast food place and their cow mascot.
Today was also take The Prince Consort for his after hernia surgery check up. Being ‘sick’ has been very hard on TPC. He’s not used to taking time off for sick. He’s been rather subdued for the past week plus. It was a shock to me that this energetic strong man could ever be anything else. The simple outpatient surgery had me more scared after it was over than I was while it was going on.
We had ordered his dream bass fishing boat with delivery for only a week after the surgery. But we had to push it back another week.
As we all know, husbands do Not go in to see the doctor alone. If you let them do that, instead of consulting about the hernia, they will come home with little blue pills. You know the kind. So I sat with TPC waiting. Finally he points to the Digestive System chart on the back of the exam room door, and says, “I see the liver. Where’s the onion?”
For a week he told me no jokes, because it hurt to laugh. He was BACK!!!