A Piece of Furniture

I’m so used to it, I don’t mind at all. Not sure I ever did actually, being a part of the environment, blending in and taken for granted, all leave me feeling comfortable. It’s as though I’m just like a natural rock formation, not one that gets a second look, but one you overlook.

When younger, seeking attention was part of establishing my presence I guess, but as I got older it was no longer necessary. Not having found that ten minutes of fame everyone is said to get in their lifetime. I settled back to watch everyone else practicing their smiles and brushing their hair in anticipation. I was as good as any of them in my day though. I could dance like Travolta, sing like a Bee Gee, albeit in a lower key and God I was handsome. Mustn’t sell myself short, I’m still capable of self deception even today.

I once went to a costume party where apart from the guy dressed as a dirty old man, mine was the only character everyone immediately knew, Don Johnson from Miami Vice. White T with blue stripes, black jacket with sleeves rolled up, and the three O’clock shadow. A very attractive young lady walked into the party and came straight up to me without speaking to anyone else. She was almost wearing a bare midriff top which didn’t quite conceal her breasts. I maintained a calm expression and was mentally reviewing what to say, when she introduced herself  and commented on how cute the two year old son perched on my left hip was. I’ve always wondered how my wife knew just when to go the loo. It proves I had the “something” back then, though I’m quite happy without it now. Turned out the dirty old man was being himself, and if honest I would admit the beard shadow was two days old and aided by mascara, but that’s a part of my life for another time.

Being just a piece of the furniture was driven home a couple of nights ago, the rest of the family in bed, I was watching the tube at around 11:00pm. As all men do, I have my spot, this is where I sit and no one else, at least when I’m home. The couch has a permanent indentation from my rear end which makes lying back comfortably at just the right angle easy. Feet up on the coffee table, remote in hand and cold glass beside me, no worries.

The volume must have been very low; because it was at this point the unannounced visitor arrived. I saw him from the corner of my eye, he just walked out and sat on the edge of the couch, didn’t even glance my way. He stared down the hall standing on his hind legs, whiskers and nose twitching, front paws in an almost prayer like pose. He stood there for about seven seconds, though it seemed a lot longer. He then turned to look at the TV and walked slowly back to the cushion he had crawled from under, disappearing beneath again.

Bottom line? Even the mice treat me like a piece of the furniture, but I have no problem with that. By the way, our cats name used to be Hunter, not sure what we’ll call him from now on.

December 15, 2009  PS:  Why has no one noticed the girl on the TV scratching the cats ear?

JAWhite                            "Nice Puss" Photo: By JAWhite, I'm sure you can tell.
December 2009
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