Sunday will be the anniversary of Elvis' death.And that reminded me of an incident from the past.
Years ago, after the ex and I split up, I was bedless for a while. He got the bedroom set because his parents had given it to us.
I could do without a bed but not without a refrigerator, for example. I slept on a pallet on the floor, and this actually helped my back. (I’ve had two back surgeries.)
This was fine, no real problems.
Until one night.
My son, Tree, came to the bedroom and asked, “Mom, have you seen Elvis?”
What had he just asked me? Did he really say Elvis???
“Tree, Elvis has been dead for years!”
Somewhat frantic, he said, “No, Mom, I’m talking about Jon’s Elvis.”
I had absolutely no idea what or who he was in such a dither about. I knew who Jon was; I thought I knew who Elvis was – with an emphasis on “was.”
As it turns out, Tree was babysitting Jon’s pet hamster while Jon and his family were vacationing. Elvis was the hamster and he had gotten out of his cage and out of Tree’s grasp as well.
There was a critter loose in our house and I had been sleeping on the floor! That isn’t the kind of thing that gives me a warm and fuzzy feeling. Fuzzy? Well, maybe so. Warm? No way!
After that, I slept on the sofa. To this day, I’m convinced that the children kept other critters in the house from time to time without my knowledge and, thank goodness, without incident.
Flickr photo by violinsoldier.