Oskar trying to beat the heat
"Hello there, kitten wittens. Come on in," I said, because sometimes Oskar waits for an invite before entering the bathroom.
There was no movement.
"Oh, kiddly bediddly. You can come in," I singsonged, patting the edge of the tub.
There was still no movement.
"So, you're just going to sit out there, hey sweetness? But I miss my widdle fuschnickens." I clapped my hands against my thighs.
There was no movement again, but he sometimes makes a point of half-ignoring me if he feels that he's been slighted somehow, which is often.
"Little kitter badoodles, you know you want some lovin'," I said. "Come to your mama. My yiddow baby cat knows he's got some coming."
And then I reached down to rub his head and entice him to come through the door...
only to find myself petting...
A BATHING SUIT HANGING ON THE DOORKNOB.
It was then that I realized I had just spent several straight minutes trying to sweet talk a bathing suit into coming into the bathroom for a cuddle.
- I am much blinder than I thought I was without my glasses.
- When a bathing suit turns eight years old and hangs lumpenly enough to resemble a cat, it's ripe for retirement.
- Nudity compounds the embarrassment of an embarrassing situation by no less than three times.