When the Kitty’s Away

Oh yeah, I'm watching YOU

Oh yeah, I’m watching YOU

. . . I’m the mouse.

And I’m playing.

If you were to look into our living room from above, you’d see two middle aged people with laptops open, the TV blaring, probably not talking too much.  The male person would probably have a small dog next to him, stretched out, asleep and a big fat cat approaching from the other side.

But this week is hell week which to the uninitiated is the week before a production goes up.  Among his many accomplishments, the ‘Publican is playing cello in a local production of “How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying.”  Every night this week, they’ve been rehearsing and tweaking to get the show in shape for the big opening night which is tonight, April 4.

I should add that this is community theater taking place in a local church with only a mug in payment.  And everybody who participates does so for years.  I have a lot of logo mugs on the shelves.

So right now it’s only one laptop on one lap, and the dog is in her bed.  Hmmmm.  And where’s Milhouse the big fat cat?  Who the hell knows, but this mouse is fine without him.

This is my only single girl time and I eat Cheez-its with abandon.  Okay, truth – I eat them when the ‘Publican is around, too.  I’m not proud.  These are the parmesan Cheez-its we’re talking about.  DAMN!

Since we’re both retired and home all day, seriously, this is just about the only alone time I get.  I mean, I love him and we have a great time together but I’m a natural introvert with at least one book (nowadays on an ebook reader) I’m in the middle of at all times.  I like watching the ID channel on cable with shows like “Ice Cold Killers,” “Stalked,” and “How (Not) to Kill Your Husband.”  That last one is a new show on ID and I’m sure it’ll be a laff riot – just kidding, fellas!

Before I got married again, I was single for almost two decades and I got used to coming home, putting on something mindless and zapping a lean cuisine.  Usually the cat and I watched TV until I fell asleep and the drool started and something would wrench me from slumber, to stumble to an actual bed.

Now it’s all different – one of us actually prepares food, we go to sleep at a reasonable time, in a bed, after brushing and flossing (there’s that floss again), and putting in our night guards which mean any conversation comes out like this:

He:  “Wha’s on de jenda for t’morro?”

Me:  “Uhmmm . . . d’no.”

Yeah, real articulate.  And sexy – !

So this week of single girl evenings has been fun, and I’ve been able to watch my fill of both damsels in distress and damsels kicking ass and taking names, which seems to be ironic for a channel with the initials “ID” which implies they sortof know who they are.  Obviously, they can’t make up their minds whether women are victims or victimizers, or both.

Until that is, the ‘Publican finally gets home and meows in my direction; that’s when the mouse takes her parmesan Cheez-its and vamooses.

I liked those Cheez-its.  I miss them.

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