"Vaudeville Revival"....February 13, 2000

"Vaudeville Revival"....February 13, 2000

One Before Midnight...

...and Blessed Be this day is finally coming to an end. I am fairly certain that practically everyone has experienced days when nothing seems to be going right, when one's life seems to be the subject of a poorly done vaudeville routine. I have had many a day like this, and today is yet one more to add to the growing list.

It started innocently enough. I was awakened to glorious, but rather insistent Moo slurps, which can only mean one thing. She has to go, like now, like yesterday already. Pushing her off, then reaching down despite early morning brain haze to give myself a hearty scratch, I turned my head to glance at the clock through squinted, light blinded eyes. Although I cannot recall exactly what demonically red, digital numbers appeared on the bane of this night owl's existence, I do remember that it was early enough for me to let The Goddess know that her baby had to go, like now, like yesterday already.

With a scratchy, cigarette induced, Selma Bouvier like snarl, The Goddess returned from dreams of MacGuyver during my second declaration that her baby needed to go. While giving me the stare of death that indicated that I was daring to go where no man had gone before, she crawled out of bed and headed to the potty herself, with Moo in tow and in a state of paw crossing panic, and leaving me still in the fuzzy clutches of the sandman.

Yet I suddenly snapped awake with a start, and the realization that when Moo needed to go badly enough to slurp one awake, she is almost to the point of no return, she is full to burstin', stand back folks, she's gonna blow. This cognition was immediately followed by the remembrance that even to merely take Moo to pee in a yard covered in four feet of snow, The Goddess prepares as for Court. I leaped from the cozy comfort of the waterbed, dashed out the bedroom door, and taking a few steps further, caught Moo in the office mid squat. Her shame was sufficient enough to halt herself mid flow and dash downstairs so as to avoid the unavoidable chastisement. Glancing down the hall to see The Goddess on her throne, I dispensed the first castigation on Herself, reminding her yet again that Moo cannot hold herself once one of us gets up and lets her out of the bedroom.

"Well", she snarled, "I cannot hold it either".

Now, I am not one to be terribly petty, but my sardonic alter did all he could to avoid blurting out a comparison between the number of Moo-Pee puddles he has had to sop in contrast to the number of Goddess-Pee puddles he has narrowly avoided stepping into.

Moo eventually made it to the great potty patch outdoors, as did oh-what-a-good-boy-am-I-Reekie, who was roused awake by the early estro-extravaganza. Being almost fully awake by this time myself, I decided to have a coffee, smoke, and nap on the couch since I still had over two hours before having to ready myself to pick up my first client of the day. Whilst drifting off to another peaceful slumber, it occurred to me that I ought to retrieve the alarm clock from the bedroom, where The Goddess was again fast asleep. I was too lazy, however, to crawl from the comfortable couch clutches, and too drowsy to remember that Herself usually sleeps through an alarm.

When it comes to an inability to awaken to a clock radio blaring at full fuzzy volume a mere inches from one's face, there is nothing to be said about consistency. As is typical, The Goddess slept through the alarm I had set the night before, and I was an hour late to pick up my client in the early afternoon. But I take full responsibility.

And not so surprisingly, Moo had to pee again.

With a scratchy, cigarette induced, Selma Bouvier like snarl, The Goddess returned from dreams of MacGuyver during my third declaration that her baby needed to go...

But I digress.

Getting back to those vaudeville days...

My first client session was rather routine, and I was beginning to take comfort in the fact that perhaps it was just the start of my day that would be so off-kilter.

Silly me.

If I was to learn anything from my experiences with Herself, not to mention the reinforcement of writing them all down, it ought to be that life with The Goddess is anything but routine.

Returning from taking my first client home, I was going to have a brief, hour long nap before heading out to see the second. Nevertheless, The Goddess was toying with her email, and in not so subtle need of help. If computers were sentient, I am sure mine would start playing Taps any time The Goddess came within ten feet of the office.

And I ended up being almost forty-five minutes late for client number two. In my haste to leave the house, I forgot a reference letter I wrote for him in anticipation of a job interview tomorrow afternoon. In returning with said client to retrieve said letter, The Goddess accidentally let Moo bolt out the door, who was followed by Reekie, who was followed by Gull, who decided at that very moment to taste freedom while The Goddess held the door open in order to observe me trying to get the dogs back in the house.

I was in chase of almost the whole damn family.

With a shimmy of the bone jar, and a shake of the Pounce container, our Pavlovian crew made haste to return to the door. I was tempted to shake and shimmy on the opposite, much warmer side of that door just to hit the point home.

I no sooner got underway to the bowling alley for client number two's activity that I realized I forgot a CDRom case at home I needed to return to client number three.

I subsequently ended up thirty kilometres outside of town on a new, once travelled stretch of highway before I realized I missed the exit for the bowling alley.

While leaving the bowling alley, what I thought would be an innocent Pepsi belch turned into projectile spew landing two feet in front of me on the carpet.

And finally, while not so slapstick but just as odd, I passed an SRV over half engulfed in flames on the side of the road on the way to client three. The fire must have just started, for there were only a handful of good ol' boys yet gathered around to witness the spectacle. I was amazed at the intensity of the heat I could feel on my cheeks as I drove by the first such blaze I had witnessed. As I drove through a thick, charcoal fog of smoke, I was bewildered at the stupidity of the spectators who stood a scad twenty feet or less away from the flaming vehicle. I did not think that the combustibility of a truck on fire was privileged knowledge. As I continued on my journey, inhaling the toxic fumes of human materialism, I could not help but continue to ponder those perilously gathered around the burning beast.

Were they awaiting Commandments eleven through fifteen?

And true to the day, I left my Golden Calf at home....

....Blessed Be...