*Breaks into jitterbug dance to Barry Darin*
Ahem. Sorry. Sometimes I just can`t control myself. Actually this entry doesn`t really have anything to do with that fab-O fifties singing star but it will center on some rather odd things that occur when I indulge myself. I will admit freely that I am one of those women who LOVE a long, hot bubble bath. For a half hour I can cloister myself in the tub and let the trials and tribulations of daily life evaporate.
If I can work it, a spicy romance novel will accompany me but I skip the candles. My luck I`d have the house set on fire, or at the very least my spicy romance novel. Then I`d have to extinguish the flaming romance novel in the tub thereby missing the pivotal, and spicy, love scene and have small, charred bits of paper stuck to my delicate areas. So yeah, no candles.
Lately though some strange occurrences have been happening as I lounge in the tub, things that don`t seem to occur when Mister Yodeling will indulge in a scalding hot bath after a long day out working in the cold, cold Pennsylvania air. Curious isn`t it? It get`s curiouser folks and solks.
Since this is a family type blog I`ll spare y`all any shots of a yodeling goatherder in the tub. I`ll just use some foamy type images and call it good. Okay, here`s what happens….
First I`ll gather my accoutrements-clean jammies and slippers, spicy romance novel (Can`t forget that!)Also my borrowed pair of wool socks to keep my wee yodeling toes warm. Do not listen to the hubby, they were borrowed and not stolen. I`ll give them back to him in May.
I announce I am entering the Calgon Zone and unless aliens land in the goat pasture or Ryan Reynolds pulls up I am NOT to be disturbed. Grunts from family drift down the hall and with their grunts I enter the bathroom and close the door. I should mention we have a funky closure on our bathroom door. It doesn`t close tightly and a good shove can open the portal into the Calgon Zone.
With the water now filling the bathtub I`ll drop in a dollop of bath bubbles and admire my soon to be respite as the foam rises. Once it reaches the desired depth, one that is adequate to cover a goatherder yet not rush over the side of the tub, I`ll slip into the water. Ahhhhhhhhhh, splendor indeed! Soon I will be up to my chin in bubbles and reading with greed about some handsome vampire warrior or a muscular werewolf….. *Drifts off momentarily*
About this time the odd occurrences start to begin. It starts with this strange scratching sound at the door. Ever so light it is, yet I can hear it. I`ll peek around the wall, well squint actually since my spectacles are on the counter, and spy something. There beneath the door, in a gap of perhaps an inch will be a tortoiseshell paw attempting to latch onto, or into, something. I ignore the paw and the scritch-scritch-scritch sound upon the door. This continues for some time along with the squeak of the paw`s owner. Yet I can still ignore it.
Without warning suddenly the bathroom door will fly open, the nice warm steam I`ve gathered in the room so I won`t be cold when I get out is gone, and there will be our black lab Trinity, tail wagging with glee at having found her mama. *Sighs*
Once the entryway is opened Lu-Lu hurries in. I swear cats have the force and use it on dogs.
‘Open the door dumb dog,’ the feline Jedi master commands with a wave of her paw.
Now at this point in the bathing ritual I will glare at the dog that is now lapping at the bar of lavender soap I laid on the side of the tub. (I know! Who the HECK wants to lick soap!? She`s odd as a cod.) Now Trinity is all squirrelly and in such a state of doggie euphoria about her discovery of the lost one known as mother, she grabs one slipper from the floor and dashes out the door.
“Hey!!! Someone want to grab my slipper!?” I`ll shout out.
I think I hear someone grunt a reply, sound is distorted in the Calgon Zone. Trinity races back in to take the mate to the first slipper and then streaks back out. I`ll then look at, or squint, at the cat who is sitting on the counter on top of my clean pajamas staring at me intently. It`s one of those disconcerting stares too, those ones that make you wonder if you sprouted a second head or something!
“What are you looking at?!” I`ll ask.
She says nothing just stares at me with those devilish cat eyes, then reaches over to knock my wool socks to the floor. She smirks, I just know she does, and Trinity runs back in to steal my socks. This is quite a feat since she already has two slippers dangling from her mouth.
Off she goes with zeal! I toss Lu-Lu my most scathing look and she then bats down whatever may happen to be on the counter…..deodorant, perfume, it matters not. Back comes Trinity with two slippers and two socks in her jowls, tail going like a helicopter propeller, and the dog then tries to ‘help’ by adding whatever lays on the floor to the huge mouthful she already has.
Safe to say by this time my bubbles have all popped, my skin is goose-fleshed; my book has been slammed down to the tub surround with attitude and my relaxing soak has been nullified and replaced with mild agitation. Yet there sits Lu-Lu, smug and snickering to herself and still staring at me.
‘Bring it,’ her expression says as I rise from the water with gusto.
Off she goes like a shot from a gun leaving me wrapped in my Ironman towel (Yes I am the Queen Supreme of Geek) and very far from being anywhere NEAR placid. What I have to wonder is why this occurs only with me? Mister Yodeling never has Jedi cats or delirious dogs with footwear fetishes ruining his baths.
Maybe I should shower from now on.