Rather a mundane day. Except for the home invasion and threat of grievous bodily harm, of course!
The setting: my bedroom. In bed, "sans femme": without my wife to fulfill her habitual nocturnal duties, which I'm not embarrassed to state: reading me a bedtime story and rubbing my back until I fall asleep. It's a magical, playfully regressive experience for me, and it sounds as though she believes it to be of benefit as well, since I've heard her on numerous occasions invoke the Lord for assistance in her kindly task: "Please, God, please take him soon, for the love of all that is holy," as she ministers to me.
Without my nurturing spouse to provide said cajoling, and faced with the prospect of a tumultuous hypnogogia, I had left a large note plastered to the front door which read, "Soporifically accomplished bedtime story readers please enter! Door is unlocked. Drowsy, compliant pacifist within." It may seem excessively detailed, but I wanted to ensure a high quality of applicant, and to let them know that I was open to most kinds of literature. Except for that dreadful "Instruction Manual" subgenre. How pedestrian. To further "sweeten the deal" and demonstrate how serious I was about rewarding those who helped dispatch me to the Land of Nod, I had also left a trail of twenty dollar bills leading from the sidewalk to the front door to entice those well-meaning scions of Hypnos.
The heteroclitic tail-wagger, however, acted up once again as I tried to post my invitation to the door! When he saw that his earnestly fitful exertions were to be in vain, he then turned his capricious efforts to sabotaging the door latch mechanism and keeping it in the "locked" position. I'm giving serious consideration to dosing him with anticonvulsant, or possibly a substantial portion of Sareena's "welcome home" turkey (which, as it happens, I've placed in the bed with me to speed up the thawing process)!
I entreated the maladapted mammal to behave and even attempted to soothe his feral demeanour with some delicious chocolate. The ingrate turned his nose up at it and ran in the other direction, thankfully to the bedroom, to which I retired as well in anticipation of my story and massage.
Having asked, I'm told I duly received...although the remainder of the evening's events were relayed to me by a very helpful police officer, Detective Harry Cox, as I managed to find slumber without my "quaque hora somni" ritual. Detective Cox states that a party of four individuals responded to my pleas for assistance and entered my home. The officer further told me that emergency services received a "nine one one" call (whatever that may be; equally perplexing is that the poor fellow apparently can't pronounce "nine-hundred eleven"), but that only heavy panting and whimpering was audible from their end. Fearing for the caller's safety, a cortège of priority vehicles was dispatched and promptly took the alleged "intruders" into custody. I implored the officer to show them leniency, as they were clearly of a benevolent nature and had nought but the most salubrious of intentions. He tried to convince me that they were a gang of notorious cat burglars with a propensity for violence which the constabulary had been hunting for a number of months! I told him this was absolute nonsense: what further proof did he need of their innocence than the fact that I do not OWN any cats? He seemed quite convinced that they had apprehended the right culprits, though, and who am I to argue?
The question remains as to who placed the call to emergency services. I can only surmise that it was an automatic gesture on my part as I drifted off to sleep, but I am not entirely satisfied with this explanation, since the only phone numbers I know by heart are those of the library and Dial-A-Tisane. I suppose we'll never know...
On another note, the spasmodic fur-baby appears slightly more relaxed, especially now that the door is denuded of its written appeal and securely bolted. I really do hope that he regains his former calmness soon; I'd hate for Sareena to think that I wasn't properly caring for him during her absence! He has taken quite a bit of work and attention, but even though he is obviously completely incapable of any sort of meaningful reciprocity, I can't help but feel a certain kind of--dare I say?--fondness for him. Especially that delicious jujube of a nose...
*Yawn* I fear it's time for me to retire. I wish to be fully restored for tomorrow's blitzkrieg against the mess and clutter which seems to have grown despite my innate talent for housekeeping. I wish you all a restful, and safe, evening. Learn from my mistakes: if you want a complete stranger to come to your home to read you a bedtime story and rub your back, it's probably best to take out a personal ad in the newspaper.