Wednesday, May 12, 2010

Twelve Legs, Sixty Square Feet

My mother will arrive from MN this afternoon and she will be bringing with her the necessary ingredients that will allow us to turn my front dinette back into a bed. My father cut two supports that will get screwed into the existing dinette seats and a piece of plywood that will span the distance between the seats. He also got a piece of foam that will set on top of the plywood, effectively turning the dinette into a bed, which can be very easily turned back into a dinette. I'm pretty excited about this. And there isn't anybody I'd rather be my guinea pig for this than my mother.

First, my mother is the most amazing person on the planet. I say this without bias. I have friends who met her for a only a few minutes, many years ago, and who still talk about her. She's one of those people who is too nice to be believable--but, no, she really is that nice. Really. She's one of the most genuine people I have ever known. So that's going to work in my favor with this experiment--I've never had more than one person in here. And the other qualification that will make her a perfect guinea pig is that she's 5-4. She should fit on the new bed without too many problems (fingers crossed). I don't think I'd try to put anybody taller on that bed.

But then, we will not be the only two organic life forms in these sixty square feet that will shortly be getting smaller. We do have, of course, Galway and Maeve. I expect that Galway will continue to sleep with me, expecting that I will save him from the evil machinations of Miss Maeve. But she prefers her blue cat bed on the dinette, so when she's dislodged from that location, we'll see if she'll be happy in the blue cat bed on the floor. Maeve doesn't sleep well with others and as amazing as my mother is, I don't think Mom will change Maeve's preferences. This morning, Maeve was awake, again, at 4:30 and wouldn't settle back down, which made me nervous for Mom's arrival. I can handle badly-behaved cats, but I don't want my mother to have to suffer. Then, as I was still wrapped up in my electric blanket, Galway asleep in a puddle at my feet, I talked to Mom (she was at mile marker 171 in South Dakota) and Maeve hopped up next to me, obviously hearing Nana's voice through the phone. When I hung up the phone, Maeve slunk down to Galway, put two paws over his body and prepared to take a chunk out of him and I saved him in the nick of time. Oh, dear. What have I done?

This is a dangerous experiment, I know. But it's just for a couple of days and it's not supposed to rain anymore, so we could, conceivably, spend some time outside, perhaps around a fire. If it goes badly, though, I'm relying on my mother's innate kindness and I'm hoping that she's still speaking to me at the end of it.

1 comment:

  1. Your mom is pretty amazing. :) Hope the two of you have a wonderful time together.

    Miss you!