Calling in sick to work makes me uncomfortable. No matter how legitimate my excuse, I always get the feeling that my boss thinks I'm lying. On one
recent occasion, I had a valid reason but lied anyway, because the truth
was just too darned humiliating. I simply mentioned that I had sustained a
head injury, and I hoped I would feel up to coming in the next day. By
then, I reasoned, I could think up a doozy to explain the bandage on the
top of my head. The accident occurred mainly because I had given in to my
wife's wishes to adopt a cute little kitty. Initially, the new acquisition
was no problem.
Then one morning, I was taking my shower after breakfast when I heard my
wife, Deb , call out to me from the kitchen. "Honey! The garbage disposal
is dead again. Please come reset it." "You know where the button is," I
protested through the shower pitter-patter and steam. "Reset it yourself!"
"But I'm scared!" she persisted. "What if it starts going and sucks me in?"
There was a meaningful pause and then, "C'mon, it'll only take you a
second." So out I came, dripping wet and butt naked, hoping that my silent
outraged nudity would make a statement about how I perceived her behavior
as extremely cowardly.
Sighing loudly, I squatted down and stuck my head under the sink to find
the button. It is the last action I remember performing
It struck without warning, and without any respect to my circumstances. No,
it wasn't the hexed disposal, drawing me into its gnashing metal teeth. It
was our new kitty, who discovered the fascinating dangling objects she
spied hanging between my legs She had been poised around the corner and
stalked me as I reached under the sink. And, at the precise moment when I
was most vulnerable, she leapt at the toys I unwittingly offered and
snagged them with her needle-like claws. I lost all rational thought to
control orderly bodily movements, blindly rising at a violent rate of
speed, with the full weight of a kitten hanging from my masculine region.
Wild animals are sometimes faced with a "fight or flight" syndrome. Men, in
this predicament, choose only the "flight" option. I know this from
experience. I was fleeing straight up into the air when the sink and
cabinet bluntly and forcefully impeded my ascent. The impact knocked me out cold.
When I awoke, my wife and the paramedics stood over me.
Now there are not
many things in this life worse than finding oneself lying on the kitchen
floor butt naked in front of a group of "been-there, done-that" paramedics.
Even worse, having been fully briefed by my wife, the paramedics were all
snorting loudly as they tried to conduct their work, all the while trying
to suppress their hysterical laughter......and not succeeding.
Somehow I lived through it all. A few days later I finally made it back in
to the office, where colleagues tried to coax an explanation out of me
about my head injury I kept silent, claiming it was too painful to talk
about,which it was. "What's the matter?" They all asked, "Cat got your
tongue?"
If they only knew!
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