I had originally planned on making today’s post the sequil to the Rain Days and Tuesdays one.  And, I still intend on writing the rest of the “Window Caper” in another post soon.  However, after listening to my upstairs neighbor for two consecutive days, I have been left to wonder just what goes on in the apartment above mine.

I live in the quite town of Davidson, NC.  I live in a middle class neighborhood in a middle class apartment complex.  There are the usual mix of people in this complex.  There are young singles who have roommates.  There are newly married or newly “living together” couples.  There are “young families”.  There are middle agers like myself either single or married. 

I would wager to guess that most of the residents have a pet.  I know that several of the people who inhabit my building have pets.  There are dogs that are being walked at all hours of the day and night.  There are dogs that bark behind doors as on climbs the stairs or walks down the hallway.  There are cats that appear in windows and stare out at the day.  As for other pets, I can only guess.  However, I hope that no one in my building has a snake!  That would be something that I would worry would make it’s way into my apartment somehow.

I live on the second floor.  The person who lives below me is very quiet.  The only sounds coming from his apartment are those of him opening and closing his door as he enters or leaves his apartment.  The people who live on the second level are all fairly quiet, myself included.  There is a family that lives at the end of the hall nearest me who has at least two children.  I am still now sure just how many people live in that apartment.  The kids occasionally squeal or scream and they plod up and down the stairs.  But, all in all, they are fairly quiet too.

The third floor remains a mystery to me.  I know one “guy” lives up there.  Whether he lives over me or not, I am not sure.  The other apartments are surely occupied on the third floor.  Which brings us to the person(s) who live above me.

The person(s) living above me must not have much if any furniture.  Or they do not spend much time sitting down.  From early in the morning until late at night, I can hear the steps of the person(s) above my head.  There is also slamming and dropping going on up there too.  And, often the sound of really loud music with a really turned up bass.  The music, while in itself not so bad, is not to my taste.  However, one has to make consessions when living in a building much like a college dorm. 

I can only imagine what is going on upstairs.  I don’t hear screams so I am fairly sure that there is no type of abuse or human bondage going on.  I also don’t hear moans or groans which would lead one to thing that the person(s) above me were just fairly “frisky” (if you get my meaning).  There are just lots and lots of footsteps and lots and lots of slamming and dropping.  (could be hammering…not sure)

So, my mind has started wondering just who or what is occupying the space above me.  It is a secret place for Santa’s elves to build part of the Christmas toys desired by boys and girls each Christmas?  Is it a chop shop?  Is it a gym with someone working out and lifting weights?  Is the person learning how to dance or teaching dancing?  (reference the music from before)  Is it a professor from the nearby university practicing his lectures, walking around?  Is it a chem lab?  (I don’t think so, there are not any weird smells)

Does the person build furniture?  Or maybe put together furniture might be a better way to say it.  I don’t hear any power tools or sawing.  Just lots and lots of pacing and slamming and dropping.

Does the person above me ever sleep?  I cannot attest to that fact.  The pacing begins, or maybe it has continued all night, early in the AM.  It continues until late, or maybe nevers stops, into the night.  There is no room that the pacing feet do not visit innumeral times during the day/night.  Jut when I think it is going to stop, it starts up all over again.  

The footfalls are not like those you would think you would hear like living in a two or three story house.  These are heavy footfalls.  As you can deduce by this post, they can sometime be distracting.  I have not yet become curious enough to go upstairs and ask.  I don’t want to be a bad neighbor…but I am curious.

I know that’s not the way the lyrics go.  But, after you read this you will understand why I made the change in the line.

I have mentioned in another post that my car windows have been malfunctioning.  The two rear windows seem to have been possessed by poltergist or some other entity.  The independently decide when to go down without any assistance or without my hitting the down button on my console.  The powers that be seem to think that this is funny to have me riding around with windows that don’t stay up.

Since the weather has been relatively warm and dry,  I have not bothered too much to try to figure out how to get the windows to stay shut.   However, that all changed on Tuesday.  It poured rain all day long and way in to the night.  This is where my story begins.

On Tuesday, as long as the car was in it’s parking space at the apartment, the windows stayed up as they were supposed to.  However, I had Bible Study on Tuesday evening and had to use said Jeep to drive to the meeting.  Well, about half way out of the parking space, the window behind the driver’s seat decided to go to half mast.  And, that is when the “fun” started.

As long as I was driving, a minimal amount of rain came in through the window.  But, stopping a traffic lights and at the church allowed the rain to pour in to the car in copious amounts.  I felt like someone had stood outside my window with a bucket full of water and had chosen the opportune time to throw said contents into my vehicle.

When I arrived at chruch, I got out of the car in the driving rain and attempted to raise the window manually.  But, the force of gravity was definitely against me.  No matter how much I struggled or tried, that window was determined to stay at half mast within the confines of the frame.  Just to “tease” me, once it even dared to go far lower suggesting that it could and would disappear into the frame of the door if I attempted any further attempts to get it any higher or to get it to close.

No matter how much I begged or pleaded with it, the window was determined not to stay closed.  And it was futher determine to allow the inside of my back seat to get a good soaking.  What feud it had with me or the back seat, I am not sure.  I seldom ask it to do anything but stay closed.  Maybe that is why it had decided to open itself.  It wanted the freedom to choose whether to stay opened or closed and was exercising it’s option to stay open in any type of weather.  Regardless, I could not get the window to cooperate in any way.

Not to mention, it was pouring rain.  The window was slippery and wiley.  Rain was pouring down the neck of my coat because one cannot hold and umbrella and deal with an unruly window.  The window won and I admitted defeat.

However, I did have a towel in the hatch part of the Jeep.  So, I decided to get it out and place it in front of the window.  I opened the hatch, got the towel, opened the rear door and positioned the towel over the window and closed it.  That solved the problem for just a little while.

I attended Bible study.  Although, I have to admit that my mind kept wandering back to the window and thoughts of how I was going to drive home without being soaked.  I knew the towel would not work.  So, I decided that the Church could donate to me one of it’s garbage bags to cover said window until I made it home.  It did not help my concentration that the in room in which the study was held we could hear the force of the deluge going on outside. 

Most of my study mates were sympathetic to my plight.  They offered certain advice.  Most of them asked if I had a garage in which I could park.  But, alas, no garage comes with my apartment. (not without a cost anyway)  They all looked at me with pity in their eyes.  And, I don’t fault them at all for some of the obviously having thoughts that they were glad their windows were operating as they should and were sealed tight against the storm.  “There before the grace of God…”

After the study broke up for the evening, I got the garbage bag and once more braved the forces of nature to do battle with the stubborn window.  I walked out into the pouring rain thinking “once more into the breach”.  I steeled myself and made my first attack on the window.  I removed the sopping wet towel and attempted to place the garbage bag the window to prevent rain from gaining access to the interior.  

After doing the best I could in the situation, I got in the front seat realizing that I could not find my keys.  I had left the car unlocked when I went in.  Why lock a car with a window that is down at half mast?  So, when I came out, I did not have to use them to gain access to the car.  I went through my pockets, my purse and looked around the car to no avail.  No keys.  So, I once again braved the weather to go back into the church to see if I could find them there.  When I could not find them after I retraced my steps I realized that the keys were in collusion with my window.  How they communicated with each other I do not know.  Perhaps when the keys were in the ignition and I was driving over to the church.  Maybe that is a connection much like the internet where each part of the car can instant message the other.  Regardless of the mode of communication, they were both staging a coup against me.  At this point, I was hoping the the engine, windshield wipers, brakes or tires would not join in and make it a party.  I really do take pretty good care of my vehicle so I was hoping that this attempted coup would not get any futher.

Well, after I got back to the car, there were the keys sitting in plain sight on the back seat.  I am guessing that the back seat, being soaked decided not to cooperate with the coup and delivered the keys back to me as a peace offering.  I was both relieved and appreciative that I had again gotten the keys back in my possession.

I started the car and off I drove.  Before I got out of the parking lot and onto the street, the garbage bag was flapping in the wind.  So, you can guess, it was not doing much good to keep the rain out of the car.  In my mind, I could hear tiny laughter coming from the window and “ugly” words coming from the back seat. 

When I got home, I parked the Jeep.  I unlocked the doors and made sure I had firm possession of the keys.  I went around to the back doors, opened one and got in.  I closed the door behind me.  I then started to make sure that the garbage bag was in place by resecuring it around the opened window.  I knew that without tape, it would only stay in place if the car was not moving.  And, I was not moving the car until I went to work the next morning.

After being relatively sure that things were as good as they were going to get, I reached over to open the door and get out and realized the coup was not yet over.  The back door, in spite of being unlocked, would not open.  I had the keys with the fob.  I locked and unlocked the doors in an attempt to get the door to operate properly.  Nope, nothing doing.  So, now, even though the door was unlocked, I was in fact, locked in the back seat of my own vehicle. 

Is this starting to sound like an episode of I Love Lucy?  Well, I realized I could reach the front door handle and open the front door.  But, from opening the front door from the back seat, how was I to reach the outside door handle of the back door?  In the meantime, rain would be pouring in the opened front door wetting yet another seat.  The window at this point must have been smelling victory.  Because, I could, force it down further and easily access the outside door handle.  I chose not to take that opportunity.

If anyone knows what a Jeep Liberty looks like, there are two bucket seats up front with a console between them.  The seats have high backs so you cannot climb over them.  So, I had chose to squeeze myself  between the console in order to reach the front seat of the car.  That was a practice in human origami to say the least!  

As you can tell from this post, I did achieve access to the front seat.  I did open the door and get out.  And, I did make access to the apartment. 

I don’t know who said it, but it’s definitely true….”You have to let go and open your hands to receive what God has ready to give you.”  Meaning if you are holding on to anything with a closed fist or very tightly, well, you migh just be missing out on something way better.

I am in the process of learning how to “let go”.  It’s not easy and it’s dang scary.  However, without letting go of what I have in my hands, whether it is a “physical” something or a “metaphorical” something I can’t “grasp” what else God has out there ready for me. 

There are a lot of “what ifs” and a heck of a lot of fear.  And the idea runs in the opposite direction of conventional thought some times… with that old “bird in the hand” adage along with tons of others that I could recite.

I could also recite just as many instances when if “we” had not let go… we would have been stuck.  For example, how about learning how to walk.  You can’t ever see the world if you don’t let go of that finger you are holding onto and walk by yourself.  Otherwise, you have to go where someone else wants you to go.

I have been letting go of a lot of thing recently…ideas, hurts, pains, past actions, ways of thinking.  I have also let go of a lot of physical things too.  Just think about the farm and my beloved Ranger Dog.  A house that I loved.  A life I thought was going to be “happily ever after”.  I sold all my jewelry I received from the ex.  That was a huge one!!!

And, all of this letting go is looking towards the future.  After all the talk about lamenting and singing the Blues, we learned today in church that the lamenter in Lamentations still had a glimmer of hope.  I realize that I do too.

If I keep and carry around all the things from my past and all the unfortunate things that have happened recently, well, there simply isn’t any room left for the new stuff that is coming.  And, I know it’s coming.  How?

Well, it is because of God’s promises.  He says that He has lots of stuff he wants to give us.  But, we have to be willing to accept it.  It’s kind of like waiting for Christmas when you are a child.  Or getting the training wheels taken off of your bike.  Or the first time you cross the street by yourself.  And much much more all rolled up into one.

A lot of my meditations this past week have been on God opening doors and windows and giving us opportunities.  I don’t want to be too tied down with things that I can’t just pick up and go where God is leading me.  (spritually and physically)  So, if that means letting go of some things and ideas, well so be it.

The prize in the next Cracker Jacks box may be the best yet.  But, I won’t know unless I let go of what I have in my hand to open the box and see what’s inside.

Here is one idea that keeps popping in my head.  I really, really want to “help”.  What does that mean.  I really, really don’t know at this point.  I know that I want to help those going through what I am going through.  But, I also want to help children who have had to this point and beyond a not so pleasant home life.  I know of this child right now who have panic attacks because of the situation he is in at home.  The parents are “trying” to help but if they don’t get that they are part of the problem, the curen will never happen.  However, I cannot say what I would like to say about they, themselves seeking professional help without alienating them all.  So, what I am doing is praying for the child and the family.  I know that helps…however, my hands just “itch” to reach out and hold that child and let him know that he is loved and he is just a little boy and cannot take on the world by himself…..Let the adults worry about the adult things.  And, if they don’t, well tell someone.  Believe me, I know that is easier said than done.  Because of the burdens I carried for so long that were foisted on me when I was just a child myself.

Regardless, the seed has been planted.  Those of you who read this….pray for me that I will know how I can “help” in a good and productive way.

Why is it that all the good adages have already been quoted?  Will some words from our generation be adages for future ones?  I don’t know about that.  But, I do know that the above title, quoted by whomever is certainly apt today.

I know that God does not give us more than we can handle.  The caveat is that we are suppose to ask for His help in the handling and not try to do it all ourselves.  I am slowly but surely learning that concept.  But…I admit that some times, God has to pile my plate really high and give me an itty bitty little spoon with which to consume the meal.  No matter how hard I try, I can’t get much down before another huge ladle full is placed on the plate.  And, when I think I have had enough and can’t “eat” one more spoonful…. Well you get the idea.

This week, we are suppose to bring to church broken things.  This is unique…we are going through the bood of Lamenetations.  I suspect that the broken things are significant because they can be used as examples of things that can be used.  So, I have to wait until tomorrow to know the full extent of the significance of them and how they will be used.  The ending product is that our resident artists are going to use the broken things after the service to make works of art.  I am totally excited to see what people will bring and what art projects will arise from the “ashes” so to speak.

So, I have been thinking about what “broken” thing I could take to church.  And, I have come up with some unique things….but really nothing more unique that others have thought of I am sure.  The first thing I thought about….well, the obvious is me.  I am broken and need fixing…but, Idon’t think that is what the minister had in mind when he said things…because I am not a thing.  Then I though about my marriage…well that is broken. But, you know, that is an institution and a pledge but not a thing.  And, I lay that at the feet of God alot. 

Then, this week, my left rear windo in the Jeep decided that it would join its twin, the right rear window, and quit working.  You see, I have automatic windows.  I have already had one of them repaired once already.  But, now, when I drive from here to there, before I make it, both windows in the rear are down to about half mast.  It seems that the mechanism that is suppose to keep the windows closed is not working.  So, everytime I exit the car, I have to shove up, manually, both rear windows. 

As you may guess, I don’t currently have the funds in my possession to have the windows repaired.  Actually, I have been riding around with one of them not functioning properly for a while now.  But, guess what, during rainy cool weather, the back windows automatically dropping is not desireable or wanted.

So, the third thing that crossed my mind was my Jeep.  However, the minister stated we were not to bring things in like washers or any huge applicance.  And, I can’t quite figure out how to get the Jeep in the sanctuary with out damaging the Jeep further or in fact damaging the sanctuary.  Also, I don’t know what I would use as transportation if I were to give the Jeep as a broken thing even though it is a thing and it appears to be broken.

Now, I have to come up with something else that I might be able to take.  Well, I have a mug with a broken handle.  That is a common thing and I am sure that there will be more than one broken mug that shows up tomorrow.  I have a pair of favorit jeans that are no longer wearable.  They are a thing, and they are broken…but someone else might like them to wear, holes and all.  I have a favorite sweat jacket that has a broken zipper…again someone else can use it (Hey, maybe we are to consider that too!)  I have ink pens that no longer write although they seem to have plenty of ink….

I think I have the perfect thing to take.  No one else will have one I am sure.  While by itself, it is broken because it cannot be recharged,  if it were to be united with the charger, it would no longer be broken.  But, it represents how my life as I knew it was broken apart by words and actions and things….So, I guess I have settled on the thing I will take.  It is the shock collar from Ranger Dog.

See, my soon to be ex…decided to put a shock collar on my beloved Ranger Dog to “make him behave”.  He was misusing the collar.  So, on one of my trips to see my pup dog, I took the collar.  So, for a while at least, Ranger Dog got the respite of not being shocked for no reason at all except the “meanness” of the person holding the controls. 

I am sure that there will not be another shock collar in the whole pile of broken stuff that is presented tomorrow.  And, if seen by my ex, he will know where it came from.  And, I might have to bear the brunt of his disdain.  Because when questioned about the collar, I told him I did not have it.  At the time, I did not “actually” have it in my possession.  It had been discarded and hidden.

The gist of this post….I need to find a bigger spoon.  I need to ask God to help me consume the pile on my plate because I know that the “means” will be supplied for me to fix the car, sooner or later…. And, I need to get rid of the shock collar…..

I guess my last post was similar to one of David’s psalms or maybe the start of one of Lamentations poems from the Bible, except in modern prose.  We all have those “laments” where we say….”hey look, my life is in ruins here”.  Today, we heard about that in church.  This was the start of our series on Hope in the house of blues.  It is one of the best and most attended series that our church has.  Todday, the parking lot looks like it does on Christmas and Easter!

Today, we even learned a little Hebrew to go along with the sermon.  That was really neat too. 

The gist of today’s sermon…which featured Mike Farris, a really great Blues singer, was that we all have “laments” we all feel abandonded at some time or other.  We should pay attention to others in their times of laments too.  There is that old adage “misery loves company”.  But, there is also a chance to offer a glimmer of hope to those lamenting.  Don’t change the focus from them to yourself.  Meaning, don’t try to one-up the person who is lamenting.  Listen with your head and your heart.

Mike says you “sing the blues” to “take the heat off” sometimes.  It helps to get it off your chest even if you don’t see and end in sight.  One is there if you continue to believe.

Right now, I am wailing out the Blues…It does take some of the heat off.  And it does give me hope that things will get better.  I also have loads of friend who are listening to my laments and offering solace.  Thanks friends.

Today has been one of those days that I must be growning.  Because much of growing in character and statue is accompanied by pain.  The latest attempt to “grow” or learn was spurred by questions from my counselor.  She had questions about my past, especially who I felt had influenced my value system.  To get down to it….she asked me who in my past had influenced me enough for me to realize that I was a victim of spousal abuse and needed to free myself from my abuser.

This line of questioning led to questions about how I felt when I was in the presence of my father.  I could not answer the qestions right away.  But, inside, the overriding feeling was fear.  (Not a very positive feeling to have about one’s parent.)  She wanted to know if I felt safe and proctected when I was around my father.  I shared with her that I was three when my dad died and did not have very many memories about him at all. 

I shared with my counselor that I know from my mom that my dad never raised a hand to her.  That he was strict and somewhat controlling but not physically or verbally abusive as far as I knew.  I also shared with her that my grandfather, my mother’s father, had never in my presence said any thing harsh or abusive to my grandmoter in my presence either.  Neither was he abusive verbally or physically.

This all got me thinking about protection.  Who in my past had protected me and made me feel safe.  And, the harsh answer was no one that I could actually say.  No one stood up against my abusers for me or protected me from abusers.  And, there have been abusers in my life.

I had protection in the form of a roof over my head and clothes on my back.  That in a sense is protection.  But, actual a sense of being safe and protected from the bogey men out there.   Nope….not one person that I can name.

All in all, I have been protected.  By God.  He has been there every step of the way.  Helping me and giving me friends to mentor me.

Once again, I have been reminded of my lowly status when it comes to the “pecking order” here in the apartment.  If you do not have four legs and are furry, well you rank in low.  In fact, I am more like a gofer than anything else. 

The last incident that humbled me was this morning after I got back from church.   McGyver was standing and staring at the wall by the apartment door.  He was mewing and standing on two feet and looking up the wall.  So, I went over to see if there was anything of which I needed to be aware.  There, high up on the wall was a tiny little spider.  McGyver indicated that he wanted said spider.  So, I picked him up and allowed him to swat the spider to the floor.

That got me to thinking about how I am treated by my two furry, male, roommates.  And, I realized that I am number three in the pecking order.  How I got to be the lowest on the totem pole, I am not sure.  However, it seems that is my lot in life and I should get used to being in my lowly position.

I realized that I am the food provider.  They don’t care where it comes from or if I have to work for it.  All they know is when their bowl is empty, the servant is suppose to fill it up again.  And, if I am lax in my duties, they will kindly remind me by walking across my sleeping body until I rise to do their bidding.

I am also the toy provider.  Lately, the new toy in our house is the q-tip.  Both boys love to run around with them in their mouths.  The throw them in the air and catch them.  They pull the cotton ends off.  They lose them under the closet door.  If  they lose the q-tip and I am around, of course, it is my function to locate the q-tip.  This can be done by locating the place where the cat is sitting and staring at the bottom of a door, often mewing and pawing at the door.

If I do not provide the q-tips quickly enough.  McGyver will go into the bathroom and start knocking the items on my vanity top around until I get the message and give him one.  Then, of course, to be fair, MoJo has to have one too.  Often though, since McGyver is the alpha cat, he will end up with two and MoJo will have none. 

I am cleaner of the litter box.  Both boys are good about using the litter box.  They will get in there and dig and dig to make sure that it is absolutely perfect before they do their “business”.   It often makes me think of those Japanese gardens which are raked into certain designs.  McGyver uses the box and rakes the sand one way.  MoJo will then go in the box and rake it the other way.  Obviously, they do not agree on the way that the litter lays.  And, worst of all, immediately after I have cleaned the litter box, one of them has to go in and christen it.  Never fails.

I am also a huge warm object to lay upon.  Now that the weather is getting cooler, I am back in business as a warmerupper.  Anytime I sit or lay on the couch, one or both of my boys are either on top of me, laying on my chest.  Or, if I have a throw, they are under it.  The latest craze is also for one to get under the throw and the other to play hide and seek.  When the hider is found, a wrestling match ensues.  So, you can see that I do not get much reading done if that is what I am trying to accomplish.

So, I guess I have to get used to the idea that I am just a lowly servant to the two “masters of the house”.

Today!  For the startling price of just $19.95, you can have your very own copy of The Cat’s Guide To Spider Hunting For Dummies!  This is the newest thing out on the market for those kitties who just can’t seem to “bag that spider”.  You will learn the easy way to see and then catch that spider that has been just out of your reach!  There are plenty of techniques to use like….

1.  Call out to your person to alert him/her of the spider.

2.  Show the spider to your person by staring at a spot on the ceiling until they look up.

3.  Indicate with you head that there is a spider and vocalize it to your person.

4.  Walk around in circles on the floor or counter top calling “spider, spider, spider”.

5.  Stand on two feet and paw at the ceiling without losing your balance

6.  Techniques to catch the spider by jumping up in the air when it comes down from the ceiling.

7.  How to play with the spider without killing it.

8.  Why crippling the spider can make it walk in circles and keep it from getting away.

9.  How to bring the spider to your person as a gift.

And, much much more!  These techniques will help in so many ways.  Spiders will be falling from the ceiling simply for you to catch them.  You will be amazed at the sizes and types of spiders you can catch and play with.  And, not to mention how grateful your person will be for your expertise in catching and releasing.  They will scream with delight when you deposit that spider in front of them as a gift.

So call today…1-800-get-spdr.  Have your person’s credit card ready. 

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There is a game, I never played when I was a kid, called Marco Polo.  Evidently a person is blindfolded and is set out to “find” others.  The blindfolded person yells Marco and the hiders yell Polo.  The idea is to have the blindfolded person follow your voice but not to find you.

Well, McGyver has decided that he has his own version of this game.  He is not blindfolded.  Kinda hard to blindfold a cat anyway.  MoJoe and I do not hide…He can see us.  But, he still calls out like he is blindfolded and lost.  I am not sure why this game is such fun to him.  Maybe he just likes hearing his voice.  Or, maybe he wants to make sure we haven’t left him alone.

MoJoe and I, as I stated above, don’t hide.  We are in plain sight.  The apartment is only 600 square feet.  So there are few places for me to hide.  Mojoe can do a better job of hiding than I can.  And, often McGyver is right in front of us when he starts calling for us.  (Those of you who have cats, know the type of calling I am speaking about.  The kind where the cat sounds like he is lost or scared or in some type of danger.)

I really don’t mind this game so much during the day.  It’s only at night that I obect to the playing.  Often, I have just gotten into good REM and am nice and snuggly in my bed when the calling, or catterwalling, starts.  This goes on for a few minutes until he is satisfied that he has “found” us and all is well with the world again.

McGyver also does this in the mornings when he wants me to get up and feed him.  I guess he has decided unless he wakes me, often just a few minutes before the alarm goes off, that I will not get up in time to feed him much less make it to work.  If that does not work, he walks over me several times.  He has an uncanny knack for finding just the right spot to hit my bladder, ensuring that I will have to get up to go to the bathroom.  And, well, “since your’re up….”

McGyver has also developed a liking for q-tips.  Not only does he take them out of the bathroom garbage can, he tries to get them out of my glass apothecary jar on my bathroom counter.  He cannot quiet understand why he can see them but he can’t touch them.  He pushes the jar all over the counter.  I have a fear that he will push it off the countertop and it will break.  So, I have tried to develop diversions for him.

You would think the q-tip is a prized possession.  Even as I write this, McGyver is sleeping on the floor with his beloved and treasured q-tip right beside him.  Most of the cotton tips has been removed but it can still function as a wonderful toy.

There is another fascination of both cats….sticking there heads into any clothing opening on me they can find.  Meaning, if I am on the couch, they try to stick their heads up my shirt sleeves.  Or if they walk by me and see the opening of my pants leg, they try to stuff their heads up my leg.  Not quite sure why they do that.  Makes for some funny moments though.

Maybe you remember that phrase from “Let’s Make A Deal”.  Maybe you remember it from “The WizardOf Oz”.  Either way, you are bound to think about something being concealed behind a curtain.  In this case, at the Carter apartment, the curtain mentioned above is a shower curtain. 

This curtain performs a number of tasks.  The one important to me is the fact that it can be used when I take my morning shower.  It performs it’s function in a satisfactory manner.  It keeps the water from the shower inside the tub and not outside in my bathroom.  It also conceals my body from anyone who might venture into the bathroom when said shower is in use.

When not used in the shower function, however, this curtain becomes a marvelous thing.  It is transformed into a thing of wonder that can conceal any number of things.  Namely, two rather furry and adventurous cats.  They have made numerous games that can start with the above title phrase.

Once I get out of the shower and close the curtain, it becomes the kitties’ territory.  They get behind it and drink the water from the shower off the walls.  I really don’t know why that do that since I provide them with plenty of fresh water in their dish in the kitchen.  Regardless, as soon as I exit the shower, both kitties hope up behind the curtain and begin lapping away. 

After they tire of drinking from the wall, they begin the game of jump from behind the curtain.  The involves one cat being on the outside and one being on the inside of the shower curtain.  The one on the outside had to act surprised and terrified when the one on the inside jumps from behing the curtain to form an attack.  Then both of them have to roll and tumble across the bathroom floor spilling out the door into the hallway where one of the boys makes a getaway.

Other times, the kitty behind the curtain simply sits behind the curtain.  His tail is almos always hanging out from under the hem of the curtain.  This game requires that either I or the other kitty make scratching noises on the outside of the curtain just above the kitty’s head.  The concealed one then jumps up and attacks the unseen scratcher with a fury. 

Still other times, the one concealed will wait behind the curtain until someone nears his tail, which I am assuming he is using like bait.  (You have seen those fish that have that dangly thingy on their heads that they use as bait to catch other fish?  Well this is similar to what the kitty behind the curtain does.)  The tail, most always just the tip, will wag ever so slightly until it attracts the attention of the one on the outside of the curtain.  If the tail is touched in any way, the concealed kitty slips a paw out from under the cutain, claws at the ready to grab whatever or whoever is touching it.  Thi is a very favorite game of both of the boys.

Sometimes the cutain is used for hide and seek.  This is another favorite of the boys.  One will go and hide.  The other will seek.  They start out by calling out to the hidden one much like we did when we were children and played the same game.  After looking all the obvious places, the seeker will then go into the bathroom and look behind the curtain.  There he finds the hider.  Then a game of tag ensues with the the hider trying to make it back to home without being tagged.  This game too often ends up with a tussle that spills out of the bathroom into the hallway.  Other times, it results in a race for home, one trying not to be tagged and the other trying to tag him.

These games are often sources of great amusement for me.  However, when they occur in the middle of the night or early in the morning, before it is time for me to rise, I am less that amused.  Especially when the chase involves jumping on the bed and racing over my sleeping body.  Or when the calling starts.  At night, I think the game is more like Marco Polo than hide and seek. 

Regardless of the game, the ending is the same.  There is always some type of tussle and chase.  Some times, one is more serious than the other with his intentions of the game.  That is when the ears go back and the claws come out.  At that point, I have a front row seat for a WFC (Worl Federal of Cats) bout.  The caterwalling starts, the smacks start getting traded back and forth.  The taunting words, spoken with hisses and growls are traded.  You get the idea.

And, what’s behind your curtain?