It now being 10.32am on Saturday, I should be expecting around about now to be rolling over and wondering if I will make it to the bathroom on time if I stay just five minutes longer in the bed. Instead, I have already eaten breakfast, rolled up part of a gazebo and stowed it in its tote bag, cleared a moderate space on a dining room table, brought recyclables out the back and plomped them into the green recycling bin, spoken in various tones to one black cat and one tabby cat, and listened to a bunch of politicians and writers on the radio. The reason for this unusual Saturday morning activity is threefold:
1) I awoke to a ding dong. Followed by a ding............................... dong. Then a dingdong, dongdong, dongdong. Obviously someone was trying to get my attention at the front door. I pulled on a robe (as the Americans like to call them) and stumped off downstairs. My father usually calls early on Saturday morning, but I knew he was occupied with getting his new old car ready for an NCT test and wouldn't be visiting. The blue uniform of a post man blurred in and out of the frame of obscure glass by the front door. At least it wasn't a canvassing politician.
"Sorry about that," he said, scribbling on a registered post delivery docket.
"That's okay," I mumbled. "I was just having a wild man lie on."
"What's that?" he asked, still scribbling, then looking up.
"It's when you sleep looking like THIS!"
I thrust my head out the door in full unkempt medusa pose. His jaw dropped a little, but he recovered, gamely.
"Sign here, please?"
2) I returned to the bedroom, sat on the side of the bed, and heard:
"Shag-a-loop! Shag-a-loop! Shag-a-loop!"
Why do cats not move somewhere else when they decide to vomit? Why do they sit in the middle of the bed when they decide to vomit?
"For f**k's sake!"
The cat, having ejected the unmentionable onto (of course) the bedsheet, jumped onto the floor with a bump. Somewhere under the bed came a couple of final Shag-a-loops...
3. Cat puke cleaned up and bedsheet dumped into the laundry basket, I was considering getting back into bed with the top sheet under me when the cat sauntered over to her litter tray and completed the morning's digestive ablutions. This time from the other end.
I opened the window.
I didn't jump out. I didn't throw the cat out the window. I just let some fresh air in and got dressed. I know when I'm beaten.
Herself, who doesn't have to turn up for work today, greets me with:
"Isn't it great to be able to relax on Saturday?"
"Mumph," I said.