vituperation

Man, my in-laws are pretty cool. I just got two books from them from my Amazon wish list, for my birthday that’s coming up in less than three weeks.

Not that I’d ever do anything as crass as mention my birthday and my wish list here at the same time, or anything, I just think it was very thoughtful of them.

So my wife claims I love to hide and scare the bejeebers out of her, because I’m an evil evil man. This may be true, but I’d like to share a typical “scaring” incident with you, one that happened just today.

I awoke early this morning, about 3:40—

Note: I think I’m on the mend, thank God. I don’t want to jinx it, but I’ve had no nausea for three days now, and I’ve started to crave some of my old foods again, like meats, veggies, and fruits (for several days I was mostly living on soup, crackers, and ginger ale). I’ve also gone back to eating my regular foods again, and I’ve noticed yesterday and today that my skin and eyes are much less yellow early in the morning. They still yellow up during the day, but I’m happy. Since yesterday, my pee has definitely been more yellow than brown, and so far today, I seem much less itchy than I have been.

—and decided to go for a walk, because I was feeling all full of energy, having slept the night through for once without getting up fifteen times to pee off my daily swell. For the record, I not only had the energy to cover the 2.5 miles, I even jogged almost a half mile. No, I didn’t overdo it, close your email client.

Anyway.

I got out of bed, grabbed the squirt bottle of water I use on the cats when they get rowdy outside my bedroom, and headed across the way to the master bedroom. In there, I walked into the closet and put the squirt bottle on the ironing board because, being a multi-use kind of guy, I also use the squirt bottle when I iron my shirts.

I began to search for a t-shirt suitable for my walk. Behind me, I heard Robyn shift around on the bed where she sleeps. As I turned to look, she sat up, threw off the covers, and swung her legs over the side of the bed.

“I’m in the closet,” I said, trying my best not to scare her.

Nothing.

She reached up and fiddled with one of the earplugs she wears when the sleeps. Good, she’s taking it out, I thought, and tried again.

“Bessie, I’m in the closet,” I said, a little louder.

Nothing.

She stood, and began to walk across the room toward the bathroom. I’d tell you she was scratching her ass, but she’d get mad at me, so I won’t. With a little more oomph, I called out, “Bessie, I’m in the closet, getting a t-shirt!”

A cat chirped petulantly.

“Sorry, Miz Poo,” Robyn said in a singsong voice.

I grabbed a t-shirt and stepped out of the closet (shut up), just in time to see Robyn framed in the doorway of the bathroom.

“I’m behind you, Bessie,” I called across the room. She walked into the bathroom, not acknowledging me at all. I strode across the room and quickly reached the door of the bathroom. She was about 7 feet away, headed for the toilet.

Not quite sure of what to do, I reached out and kind of flopped my hand around on the door. Not quite a knock, and not quite a scratching. A flopping. Robyn stopped in her tracks and turned to look back my way.

“Hey Bessie,” I said, smiling. I raised one arm and waved to her. She was silent, just looking at me. I stepped into the bathroom, still smiling.

“OH, JESUS CHRIST!” Robyn shrieked, and jumped straight up about four feet. I thought she was going to crack her skull on the ceiling. When she landed, she ripped the earplugs out of her ears and gasped, “YOU SCARED THE SHIT OUT OF ME!”

Of course, I was laughing like a goon at this point, so I couldn’t respond. Who wouldn’t be?