I was released from Parent/Teacher Conferences last night at 8:30. There was no negotiating on this matter. The fact that I had but two conferences and that they were both scheduled for the afternoon did not affect the situation one little bit. Rules are rules and, if I want the extra time off at Thanksgiving, then I'd better just suck it up.
Note: This sort of sounds like I tried to negotiate and that I was all forceful and self-advocating about everything. I wasn't. I just sat in my office and grumbled...
As I made my weary way to my car, I suddenly realized that things had gotten a bit nippy outside. Downright freezing, if you want the truth. And the fact that a colleague suddenly found the need to stop and chat with me from the comfort of her nice, warm car helped to make that point even more clear. By the time I got to my own chariot, I was shivering to the point of convulsions.
Yup. It was cold. This could only mean one thing: It was time for The Talk.
I arrived home and took off my less-than-helpful-in-arctic-conditions jacket. I greeted the kitties and informed them that we would be having a discussion once I'd fed myself and warmed up to the point where I could feel my feet.
The Big, Fluffy Kitty, having heard this speech for years now, took little of my time. She nodded vaguely as I spoke and it was clear that half her attention was really on her favorite television program. That's OK. She knows what to do. Directions are really superfluous at this point in our relationship.
The Absurdly Gi-normous Kitty, however, is new around here. He was going to require the full speech. This is somewhat time-consuming and I was awfully tired. But I knew that it would be worth the investment in the long run. These are serious days and it is time for everyone to pull together if we are going to make it.
I scooped him up, staggered a bit under the strain of the weight, and lurched to the couch. I sat him on my knee and looked into his eyes in order that he might see the importance of my coming words.
Then my legs started to go all tingly and numb because the average human frame is not meant to bear such gi-normousness. Coincidentally, it was right around this time that the AGK remembered that he isn't much of a lap cat and began to make his opinion on this state of affairs known to me. We all agreed that it might be better if we had individual seats and things progressed more smoothly from this point.
I took a deep breath and began my Winter Is A-Comin' Survival Speech:
My Dear AGK, it is time that we speak on a matter most serious. The chilly days are upon us and we must all do our parts to make these circumstances bearable. I am the human. It is my job to fill the bowls, scoop out the litter box and earn money in order that we might have funds for life's necessities.
You, my handsome boy, are a cat. You are fluffy. You are also blessed with prodigious girth. I have asked little of you up 'til now. I have simply enjoyed your company and been grateful for your entertaining ways. Now you must step up. I know that you have not had a family for a while and that you are maybe unfamiliar with how families work. But we are now a family and you must use your gifts to help our happy home function smoothly.
I therefor must ask that you lend me your fluffy, flabby gi-normousness. Come bedtime, it is the responsibility of all household felines to repair to the bed and provide me with extra body heat. I realize that this is a lot to ask and that it is going to require some negotiating with a certain BFK who has gotten used to being the only fluff ball in the bed. But it has to be done. I shall surely freeze to death should I not have a little extra insulation during the nighttime hours.
Perhaps if I had been a better, more industrious knitter over the summer months, I might have been able to crafty myself enough warm and woolly accessories to avoid this sad state of affairs. But there is no sense in finger-pointing at this juncture. The situation is what it is. Besides, I am but one person and I don't see how I could have really knit enough to cocoon myself adequately anyway.
I'll make it worth your while. I have an electric blanket. Between that, the BFK and your gi-normous ability to radiate body heat, I think we can all sleep comfortably through to the spring.
I thank you for your time and attention. I trust that you understand the situation and that I can count on your support in this matter.
I'm pretty sure that I made an impression. I could tell by his expression. He was very focused.
I had a good feeling about it. He'd ventured onto the bed once or twice over the weekend and I thought he might be considering sleeping there as a regular part of the routine. Sure enough, he was game! He was late. But, sometime around midnight, I felt the bed shift sharply to the left as if a bowling ball had been dropped on it from some great height.
Sadly, he didn't stick the landing and invaded the personal space of the BFK. She was less than accommodating about this and we had a slight "incident" over this social gaffe. Happily, he was undeterred by this little setback. I awoke in the very wee hours to find myself quite securely hemmed in by my personal assistants. I so warm and cozy I almost couldn't stand it.
Seriously. I almost couldn't stand it. I was kind of hot. And really claustrophobic. But any good plan needs a little "tweaking" at the outset so I have great hopes for this strategy helping us in managing the winter months.
What a team I have over here! I'm truly blessed. I should have known I could count on them to come through in the crunch. And it is a good team leader who trusts in her chosen ones.
I actually feel sort of guilty about turning on the heat just in case...