Surrender

I made sure to put in some sock time today. I did this bright and early because I didn't want to forget. I needed a project ready to go for Knit Night and there would be no last minute rushing about for this knitter!

I managed an inch or so of sock, enough to make knitting relatively mindless, and put the project aside. It was ready to go. I set about enjoying the rest of my day.

I'm not exactly sure just what happened after that. It's kind of a blur. What I do know is that the next time I looked at the clock, the 6:00 hour had just passed. Odd, that. I can't help but wonder where the rest of the day went, but I'm not one to question a timepiece. I also happened to notice that I didn't appear to be rushing about like a madwoman and trying to get ready to leave in order that I might salvage some of the evening. I didn't feel like moving at all.

Sometimes you just have to accept the inevitable. Surrender isn't necessarily a bad thing. Sometimes it's the only thing.

In lieu of a report on my Summer Of Compensatory Knitty Socialization (S.O.C.K.S) time, why don't I tell you a story? It's amusing and, I assure you, quite true. I should probably tell you two things right up front, though. First, it is a bathroom story. While not an icky bathroom story, I like to ensure that those of you with delicate constitutions are aware of the context in which a tale is told.

Secondly, I wish you not to think this story is about me. While I have nothing against the bathroom in general, I like to think that I have transcended such things. No. Let's say that this little slice of life is from someone else's plate.

Once upon a time, there was a lady who was enjoying her summer vacation. However, with school starting soon, she knew that the time had come for her to start going to bed a bit earlier. It would not be long before the alarm began going off at 5:00 in the godforsaken a.m. and it wouldn't do for her to be going to bed mere minutes before that. Each night without fail, she would make her way to the bed just a little bit earlier, always trying to get closer to the "normal" routine.

One night, a Monday if you must know, she informed her cats that it was time for everyone to settle down. This was met with nods of understanding and the resuming of their frantic racing about the house. The kitties were not quite so enamoured with the thought of "routine" as was their mommy.

The lady sighed, but doggedly pursued her earlier bedtime. On this night, she remembered that she should visit the restroom prior to retiring. This lady was of a later vintage, you see. As part of her routine-building, she had developed something of a proactive stance regarding certain things.

No. This is not me we're talking about. Remember the whole "transcending" business? I have evolved beyond such things as bladder maintenance...

The lady was tending to this aspect of her routine when, suddenly, a Big, Fluffy Kitty rocketed into the room, looking for all the world like the devil himself was after her. Close upon her heels was an Absurdly Gi-normous Kitty, an expression of outright glee on his face as he closed in on the object of his affections.

The lady quickly scooped up the fluffy kitty. She was already sitting down so it wasn't much of a reach. She carefully held the poor, flustered creature away from the paws of her nemesis.

This posed something of a conundrum, given the circumstance. Certainly it would not do to let go of the Big, Fluffy Kitty. The feline had come to her for protection. And sanctuary, once granted, cannot be withdrawn. On the other hand, it did not appear that the large orange beast at her feet was giving up any time soon. "Woe is me," thought the lady, "I fail to see how this situation could possibly be any worse! Surely I shall perish here and my corpse found in this most undignified of positions!"

The lady was clearly of an innocent breed and unwise in the ways of the world. She did not realize that any situation can, and probably will, take a turn for the worse. While she sat there, pondering all possible ways to extricate herself from her predicament, the Absurdly Gi-normous Kitty suddenly became aware of the strings on the lady's sweatpants. Given her "situation," they were within easy reach. Suddenly, he no longer found his pursuit of the Big, Fluffy Kitty to be quite so interesting. He lunged for the strings and quickly subdued them, along with a significant portion of the fabric from which they dangled. This, of course, would be the same fabric the lady had hoped would soon be rearranged back into her sleepwear for the evening.

"Gadzooks!" she cried, "I am undone! However shall I free myself and keep to the bedtime routine?"

The lady thought and thought. The Big, Fluffy Kitty clung and clung. The Absurdly Gi-normous Kitty wrapped himself ever more firmly into the sweatpants. Time passed. Finally, the lady realized that there was nothing else for it. The sweatpants had to be surrendered. They were a casualty of war and the war was well and truly lost. With a sigh, the lady (still clutching her fluffy cargo) carefully extricated herself from her beloved sweats. She completed those activities required in order that one might call a visit to the restroom "finished," and fled the scene.

The Absurdly Gi-normous Kitty celebrated his victory by dragging her sweatpants about the manse for ten minutes then collapsing on the bed in utter exhaustion. The Big, Fluffy Kitty fled and was not seen again until the morning feeding time.

The End

At least I think that's how it went. It's how I heard it anyway. As I said, I wasn't there so I can't be certain of all the details. But I'm pretty sure I've got it right.

Or it could just be one of those urban legends...

SA