Sunday, July 27, 2008

I am frightened.

This is the second night in a row that the flomar is not in the bed. For those of you who don't know, "flomar" is Martian for "warm, furry friend." Our own flomar has slept in our bed, under the blankets, since day one of her residence here on our planet. Last night, or actually earlier this morning when I dragged myself to bed, I noticed she wasn't there. I found this of enough importance to wake the Spousal Unit to ask of her whereabouts. His prompt reply: she's probably in the chair. Why? WHY???Why, all of a sudden, is she in the chair? Is she withdrawing? Why?

Tonight, pretty much the same scenario only a little bit earlier, I make my way to my side of the bed mostly by braille. I immediately sense that there is one less lump than there should be. In the darkness I reach into the guts of the chair, the papasan piled with many pillows and the heavy quilt that would be inappropriate for this time in this climate. Immediately my hands connect with the flomar. I pull her out of the cave and clutch her to my chest like the long-lost precious pearl and crawl into bed with her. I don't understand what's going on and it frightens me.


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