I’m introducing a new and SO INSANELY EXCITING feature on my blog that you might literally have a coronary reading the very next sentence.
I have installed a timer to display the number of days, hours, and minutes since the last time my cat Pantaloons peed on the bed where I sleep. Right on this very blog.
I know. You just pissed yourself silly. That white dining room chair you recently upholstered is now a golden maize from your urine. Your husband told you that white stained easily. You didn’t listen. And now you have pee chair. Oh well. Make grandma sit there.
On the right hand side of the blog, near the bottom you’ll see the timer. Oh yeah, everything is better with a count-up timer. It’s like that deficit clock they used to have in NYC. Except this actually means something. Well, it’s something real to me. I woke up six days ago to my cat peeing at the foot of my bed, right near my feet. This was a dark moment in my life. It made it into my diary.
So, six days now she has been on the cat-ear Prozac. My ex-wife (a vet) told me to buy gloves so the Prozac doesn’t seep into my bloodstream. I figure if she takes it, I should take it too. Thus far she hasn’t peed. I also am feeling nothing but pure euphoria and ecstasy with each waking moment. Partly from the clean bed, partly from the SSRI.
If you’re not familiar with the Pantaloons bed-pee saga, just shoot over to the search box on the right and type in Pantaloons.
By the way, this is what happens when I don’t get home from band practice until very late, and realize I still hadn’t written today. I’ll try to leave you with something humorous AND clever. Let me think a sec… hmm… (five minutes have passed)
Okay, I found something. A visual gag to tie the whole piece together. Tomorrow when I’m rested I’ll tell a stronger tale.
