Thursday, August 09, 2007

The Power Of The Socks

There are times when you have to learn the hard way. I've never been particularly good at leaving well enough alone. I get an idea and, for as long as it remains in the sieve that is my mind, it is my mission to make it happen. Most of the time, I get distracted by a particularly amusing commercial or the unmistakable scent of a brownie and disaster is averted. But last night I was just beside myself with glee at having finished the Rage Socks.



And I just couldn't let sleeping cats lie.
When I am pleased with something, I simply must spread the joy. All must know and share in my triumph. Whether they want to or not. And, for reasons that made perfect sense to me at the time, there was no better accessory for my new socks than a Big, Fluffy Kitty.

And yet I sensed that she was, perhaps, not quite as impressed with their socky goodness as I...
I don't know if it was a simple matter of her being perturbed at having had three minutes of her daily 22 hours of slumber interrupted or if the aura of the Rage Socks seeped into the air of the spacious and stately Sheep condo. But something about the events of the evening had the effect of a starter's pistol. Persephone, who is generally given to lolling about and demanding that she be carried wherever her whims might dictate, was suddenly the kitten she used to was. She frolicked, she scampered, she fairly gamboled! And this would have been the stuff of entertaining evenings had she found the inner peace to stop when it was time for lights out.
She did not.
The antics continued into the wee hours. Having had a busy couple of days and not really sleeping as well as I could be lately, I was rather hoping for an early night. I stayed up a bit later (1:00 in the morning to be exact) in order to accommodate Her Majesty's recreational schedule. But it wasn't enough. No matter how many times I started to drift off, she would do something to ensure that I was brought back to reality. Sometimes it was just a few gentle taps to the face, each little love whomp carrying with it the promise of bared claws in the near future should I not respond. Other times it was a full-on airborne assault that ended with a very fat cat landing somewhere on my person.
I wasn't the only one concerned. The third member of The Sheep household, who often prefers to get in her own recreation in the later hours when she can play with the toys unaccosted, was not pleased in the least. The more fired up The Big, Fluffy Terrorist became, the more Desdemona felt a response was required. There was a great deal of whining, chasing, hissing and a few short skirmishes over territorial rights.


She is very tired today.
I know when I'm beat. I gave up the good fight and hoisted myself out of bed to entertain the troops. This, of course, signaled an end to the late night festivities and all felines settled in once the lights came back on. By now, though, there was no hope for me. I started knitting a Jaywalker sock and put a great deal of deep thought and reflection upon the path my life has taken. I came to the conclusion that this was not really what I had in mind for my existence, but acknowledged that I am powerless to change the situation in any way, shape or form. I think that's part of their plan, really. They keep me too tired to make any productive decisions. All I'm capable of doing is opening cans and scooping out cat boxes. By the time these epiphanies had been reached it was 4:00 in the morning and I was getting a few dirty looks. Apparently, I was now being granted permission to return to my bed since the light was bothering those felines who were trying to get some rest.
To say that I have been at my best today would be a bit of the wishful thinking. I had set aside part of the morning to tend to a few errands but the only one that saw completion was the grocery shopping. And that was due to the lack of cat food in the house. I shudder to think what the consequences might be should my fatigue result in empty food bowls.
Like I said, it could have been the influence of the Rage Socks. Their frenzied completion as I dealt with the delivery company who was holding my yogurt maker hostage could easily have given them superpowers. They could be the socks that inspire frenzy and agitation. I'm not so wise in the ways of the supernatural that I can say for sure. It is also possible that my need for a late night photo shoot got me just what I deserved from my less-than-enthusiastic model.
All I know is that I am tired. And that I had to frog the Jaywalker. And that one of us here is going to be sleeping in the closet tonight.
And that it will probably be me...
SA


14 comments:

Lorraine said...

Never underestimate the power of the socks. Moreover, never, ever abuse the power of the socks. It must be used for good and not evil.

Some of that power must be drifting Westward, since my knitting companion found great pleasure in pestering me last night, too.

Mel said...

That's what bedroom doors are for. And loud fans to drown out the incensed yowling.

Beth said...

On the bright side, your socks look great! Thanks for sacrificing so that we might see them.

Sheila said...

First the knitters couldn't sleep, now their cats are following....it must be a sign!
Hope tonight is better, and the socks are too pretty.

trek said...

Wow, you have a closet big enough to sleep in?!

Our closets might not be able to hold even the SSLFC.

kmkat said...

Persephone and Desdemona? Oh,my, we are Educated, are we not? I expect they quote Robert Grave and Shakespeare, respectively.

rachel said...

Your cats have infected my Hecate - she bit me when I tried to leave for work this morning and then proceeded to attack my feet on every stair as I walked downstairs - luckily she can be distracted by toy throwing and a cat treat!

Anonymous said...

The socks are lovely.
I hope the kitties slept better last night and that you were allowed to sleep in your bed.
Karen
http://nothingbutknit.blog-city.com/

Bobbi said...

yeah socks! just when I think cats would be less work than my dogs I hear stories like this. The dogs sleep through the night.

debsnm said...

I got up this morning, walked into the kitchen to make coffee - stopped - backed up, and stared at the bottle of rum on the floor. The bottle of rum that used to live on top of the refrigerator. Now I'm wondering who's hitting the bottle when I go to bed at night - kitties or kid? Either way, I'm thinking that I should be sleeping with the rum in my room from now on.

crzjane said...

Poor Sheepie,
I do hope you had a chance for a quick nap today. Perhaps your room mates will keep it down tonight so you can get your beauty sleep.
Becareful when you wear those socks!

Annie said...

Socks look fabulous!

Becka - The Knitting Wounded said...

Stinker had a few late nights last week. She's been pretty subdued since I took her to the groomer and her them give her "the works". A trip for the BFK may also solve the fat vs fluff debate.

mehitabel said...

My BFK sleeps with me and will often awaken at 3 or 4 am with an urgent need to know that I'm still there. This means 15 lbs of cat on top of me, with the oversized paw patting my face to be sure I'm awake. He needs reassurance because, drat it, I've been rude enought to travel without him! I keep telling him airplanes + cats = misery but he won't listen!