Wednesday, April 27, 2011
The Mystery of The Wet Pillow
The sun was glaring into my room way too early this morning.
Which would normally have been a welcome change from the cold gray skies, had it not been so early, or so bright.
The phone rang and I buried my head under my pillow as Jeffrey jumped up and raced Keith to answer it.
A few minutes later, Jeffrey walked back in the room, sat on the edge of the bed, and gently pried the pillow off of my face.
"There is something weird going on here," he said.
"Wha?" I mumbled.
"A pillow in the living room is completely wet."
"Dumb cat." I said, trying to grab the pillow back from Jeffrey and shield my eyes again.
Jeffrey tossed the pillow to the floor and said "but that's the thing, there were no cups around, anywhere."
The cat is conniving. If anyone leaves a cup anywhere other than the sink, she will tip it over. Often it breaks. Actually, we are down to one glass because she has broken all of the others. Which is funny because we seriously had about 35 when we moved in. She has slowly and systematically rid the house of all glass cups. I think she has a vendetta against them or something.
At any rate, the pillow was wet, and there was no cup in the vicinity. Weird indeed.
As I was squinting my eyes, trying to get used to that unnaturally bright sunlight that seemed to be focused into my bedroom window, like a magnifying glass focused on an ant hill, Jeffrey pulled out the ultimate weapon to get me up.
He walked out of the room...
Seconds later, Faye came running in the room chattering faster than the speed of sound. She hit the bed with her little hands, and tried to climb up. I can never resist that girl when she is all smiles. I scooped her up and succumbed to the morning.
As I walked down the hall, I noticed a few odd things.
Keith's pajama shirt was lying in a heap on the floor. Soaked. I figured he had gotten himself a drink and spilled it.
As I was putting the laundry in the dryer, Keith himself came by. He was no longer wearing his boxers that he went to bed in.
Then as suddenly as a clap of brilliant lightening, everything made sense.
"Keith, where are your boxers?" I asked him.
"Oh, they got wet." he said matter of factly.
"How did they get wet?" I quiered.
"I peed in them." He said it as if it were the most natural and obvious thing in the world.
And so the mystery of the wet pillow was solved.
Now I am left with one mystery only. How do you get pee out of a down pillow?