No Commitment Here

I'm in a place where I'm shying away from commitment so you'd better hang on for the ride. Nothing significant or serious, life at Paramour goes on as it always has; sort of an afternoon soap opera written by sociopaths.

No, really, I'm not tying myself down. To any subject. Now that Thumper has expelled breath, found the elusive pasta fork and returned it to use via a sharp smack to the side of the head...

We can all relax.

Except for me. There's a bat in the basement. Not the attic. The basement. The bat, like the cat, is clearly retarded.

That's OK. I really only go to the basement during daylight hours so Batman and I don't interact much. Trouble is the damn thing has made itself at home evenings on the main floor.

Thumper's cat escaped. She lives in the basement of late and perhaps she's annoyed at quartering with a mouse with secret powers. Look, most of you little vermin are fair game. This one leaps tall buildings for God's sake! So the cat went walkabout, adding a little angst cheese to the stress pizza of the weekend. We had a to-do on Monday and that took Thumper away early Sunday leaving me to fend for myself.

The Thump also had a job interview recently. We took a few days off and she got a call to present herself. So I drove her and killed time at a local mall. I haven't been to a this local mall in about three and a half years which is a hell of a long time for some but a blink of a retail avoidance eye for me. Put another way, last time this mall saw me I was involved with What-Were-You-Thinking-Have-You-Considered-Your-Age-Difference???.

Long time ago.

So here I am at the mall not trying to break out into hives. I'm checking out all the design stores and home furnishing boutiques. Apparently the colors of the season are brown, deep orange and white and black highlights. Three things: Welcome back 1977. Count me out of decor this year. Shit, I think I've found my inner gay guy. Now what do I do??

Made a swell dinner Saturday, Thumper was late and I became crotchety over the whole thing. Inner Gay Guy, have you met Inner Douchebag?

Sometime around, no in fact it was exactly 3.23 am Monday morning I heard the start of a cat fight.

Thumpercat, meet Mooch.

Mooch is a semi stray that the last owner of Paramour sort of "left behind." You know, you keep smoking like that, you're going to sort of "get cancer." Anyway, the cat's name was Oreo for about 17 hours. In that time, two things were established.

1-Oreo is a cute name. You want cute? Move to Wisconsin

2-The cat begs for and eats anything put in front of her. Mooch.

Off I go in skivvies and with flashlight. Circling the house, looking for Thumpercat. She was found, coaxed and conned into returning and all was well. Of course, I am now the guy that walks around outside in boxers with a flashlight.

Something in that scenario stuck with Thumper 'cause she got up last night at the sound of a cat fight and went looking for the likely suspects...

Only to find Batman circling the living room. With lights on and in something skimpy she crawled on hands and knees back to the safety of the bedroom. Now to the neighbors, she is the woman who crawls with the guy with the flashlight and, well, you get the point.

Howdy Neighbor, have a 'Gansett!

And bunny on, while you're at it.