Thursday, June 18, 2009

Things That Make Me Go, "Hunh?"



Why has my cat, Peanut, decided that this is his personal drinking fountain? And why, since he started doing this almost a week ago, have my other cat and the neighbor's cat decided to follow suit? There are times (like just after kitty breakfast at our house) when there is an actual line-up of cats waiting their turn to drink from the fountain.


Why, despite the fact that it HAS NOT RAINED FOR 30 CONSECUTIVE DAYS and my lawn is as brown as dust, are the clover patches thriving? Why are they blooming and, when I get revenge by mowing their cute little puffy white heads off, why are they the only healthy part of my lawn? Honestly, if it weren't for the fact that I love nothing better than to walk barefoot everywhere, all summer long, I swear I would let it take over altogether. But the fuzzy bumblebees it attracts don't appreciate me stepping on them. And, I must admit, it's not terribly pleasant for me, either.



Who does this?! Who gets out the ice cream carton, dishes up a bowl of ice cream, notes that there is but a scant bite and a half remaining, replaces the lid, and puts the damn ice cream back in the freezer? WHO?! The other night I put the kids to bed and decided it would be nice to have a small treat. Lo and behold, there was a carton of my favorite vanilla ice cream in the freezer - I saw it there earlier. Very quietly I got a bowl down from the cupboard (Eve has supersonic hearing when it comes to night-time snacking) and a spoon from the drawer. Cringing at the sucking sound it makes, I pulled open the freezer door and retrieved the carton. Only to open it up and discover this. Honestly? GRRRRRR! So I took a picture for Bubba as a reminder of what NOT to do to your wife. Especially when you're out of town and she now has an unfulfilled ice cream craving but the children are in bed and she can't run to the store for more.
And finally: the other night Eve came screaming down the stairs, hair and eyes wild, knees knocking, goosebumps forming on her limbs at an astonishing rate. Seems she had laid her head down on the pillow and found she was eye-to-eye with a spider. On her pillow. Freaked. Out. I settled her on the couch with a snug blanket, caught the teeny tiny offender in a mason jar and quickly dispatched him to the garden where he would doubtless be happier (at least his sleep wouldn't be disturbed by a screaming girl), and prepared to tuck Miss Eve back in to bed. "Oh, no. I can't sleep in there anymore. No way," she declared. I protested. She had seen the little guy go outside. There was nothing else in there. She refused. "Fine. I'm not arguing. You need to go to bed. I don't care where you sleep as long as it's not in my bed." I sent her back upstairs assuming she was headed for the guest bed. Hours later as I climbed the stairs I nearly tripped over Eve splayed out on the floor on the top landing. Every light within spitting distance was on and she had dragged her quilt out to pull over herself, safe in neutral territory. I shook my head as I passed by her, noting that she was fast asleep, head on the selfsame pillow that had harbored the spider. She was afraid of her room but not the pillow? Hunh?

2 comments:

chris said...

Very funny! Cats are crazy creatures.

Carrie Wilson Link said...

HUUUUGE grrrr on the ice cream situation! Totally unacceptable!

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