Shaky Is An Understatement

I am a bit shaky today.

Right off the bat, right out of bed.

On days like this, sometimes - I end up hiding under the bed. It's a safe place.

It's not as easy as it used to be. Now I got Emmy Lou and Patsy - endlessly curious - poking their heads under there, hell, crawling all the way under there asking "What the hell are you doing here? Aren't you suppposed to be sitting in your recliner, getting older, slower and fatter? This is our territory. Get out."

Of course the whole time they are lecturing me they are nudging my hand, looking for love and attention. Which I give them.

I get flushed out of there and suddenly I am a stranger in my own home. Forced to walk around aimlessly while trying to look industrious to Carol.

I go up and down the stairs, rub my hand on my chin a lot looking pensive - open up and shut down my laptop pretending to be doing research: I make fake phone calls to non-existent contractors in an attempt to look manly and in-charge. I snap my fingers and say "Oh, yeah - I forgot something" and then walk up the stairs. When I get there I snap my fingers and say "Oh, yeah - I forgot something" and then walk down the stairs.

It is exhausting, but it is a requirement if I am to maintain the facade of appearing industrious in today's fast-paced society.

Thanksgiving is coming. I could clean the bathroom. Yeah, that's it - I will clean the bathroom. That's the perfect cover - I'll close the door and lie down on the bathmat and take a nap.

Until Emmy Lou and Patsy scratch on the door, trying to get to the kitty litter box, forcing me to open the door and blow my cover.

And I will still have no answer for them when they ask "What the hell are you doing here? Shouldn't you be sitting in your recliner getting older, slower and fatter? This is our territory. Get out."

Of course on the way by I kiss them each on the head.