I knew...

...it was after seven because light was filtering into the bed room from behind the drapes.  CC had just jumped up on my chest so I also knew her food bowls must be empty.

I linger in the semi-darkness for a while, but CC is most insistent, kneading the blankets and purring loudly.   I'm surprised all this has not aroused Zorro, I know as soon as I stir, I will have to get up...I don't want to.

Finally I stretch out, and the room becomes a bustle of activity.

For some reason, I don't turn on any lights.  I know where my socks and slippers are, so by instinct and feel I manage to put them on and 'scruffle' out to the kitchen.

I feed the creatures.
I make myself coffee.
I put Zorro out.
I bring Zorro in.

I begin to putter, you know...things like giving Zorro his peanut butter toy so I can make the bed.  Turn on the heat, open the drapes and front door.  I check to see if vandalism had happened over night.  All seems well.  I was relieved since I have not had my locking mailbox very long and it looks inviting.

Bed made, I'm walking down the hall, pondering.

Suddenly, Frankie appears out of nowhere.  She snickers.

Me:  "What?"  WHAT?"
Frankie:  "Snicker, snicker, snicker."
Me:  "What the heck is the matter with you?"

She slinks off, smile on face, still snickering.

I think maybe it might be my hair in Mohawk mode and dash to the bathroom.  Maybe my eyebrows have slipped halfway down my temples...or perhaps there is some foreign object is dangling from my nostril.  Nope, for once all looks well.

Then, for some reason I glance down at my feet.  I start to snicker myself.  I've been wearing an old, old pair, frequently 'electrical tape' repaired, tiny black slippers.  This morning they are pointed at the most ridiculous angles, the toes going in north and south directions.  Imagine a baby elf learning learning how to walk, that's how my feet look.  I'm telling you I look ridiculous and take a few seconds to put the slippers on the correct feet.

Now, don't you think after walking around for well over a half an hour instinct would kick in and I would have felt something strange with my foot attire.  And don't you think...wouldn't you think your very best friend would tell you "Hey, old lady, you've got your slippers on the wrong feet."  But, no, not good ole' Frankie...I think she was waiting for a prat-fall, or some other slap-stick performance.

Boy...I'll fix her...

I find her in the sun room, curled up under an afghan reading a book.  I point a finger at her, ready to pounce.  She looks up at me, with that kind of...innocent, sweet, sometimes down right 'icky' smile. I close my mouth, drop my hand, turn and walk away.  This is not a time to choose to battle...that can wait for another day...who can resist an 'icky-innocent" smile, a hot cup of coffee, a good book, and a toasty warm blanket on a blustery, wet November day.

Besides, I did look funny, nobody got hurt, and I learned a valuable lesson...I've got to turn on the light before putting my socks and slippers on.