Someone made morning too early this morning. I need to discuss this with whoever was in charge of creating 5:30 a.m.
This morning as I was frantically scampering around my house in a semi-dressed state, toothbrush in mouth, I thought I heard Olivia crying. She’s a squeaker and a chirper with shades of nasal congestion. I was hearing a repeated high pitched squeaking which sounded like her version of an excited meow. My brain helpfully suggested that this could also be a frantic, frightened, “OMG, I’m trapped somewhere” meow. It probably did not help that my bedtime reading had been Homer’s Odyssey, the story of a blind cat, and I had just read the chapter where he trapped himself inside of a plastic grocery bag. Cat mom nightmare!
I headed quickly down the hall expecting to see her at one of the living room windows or looking out the backdoor and keeping up commentary about squirrels and goldfinches. Despite the squeaking sounding louder, there was no Olivia. I carefully backtracked towards the bedrooms. Maybe I was mistaken. I thought I could hear the squeak/mewing in my room, but not as distinctly. I reversed course again and hustled down the hall back towards the living room. I could definitely hear the squeaking now!
Frozen, but poised for action, I removed my dribbling toothbrush and scanned the room. No squeaking.
I called her name, and Olivia finally deigned to saunter into the room from the kitchen, perfectly intact and calm. Maybe she was excited about leftover food, maybe there was a bird at the kitchen window, maybe she just had things to talk about. I would have to chalk the squeaking up to the mysteries of cats.
I turned to go back to the bathroom and heard the squeak.
The squeak of new off brand Spanx swishing together on my chubby thighs.
***p.s. Fortunately, the squeaking was resolved. By the time I got to work, both legs of the “Spanx” had rolled up to my hips effectively cutting of my circulation from thighs to toes. Yea!