random thoughts – Day 1,453 – (Saturday) – morning after

In the olden days of the previous century, (1972) there was a disaster movie called The Poseiden Adventure. It involved the dramatic and tragic end to an aging luxury liner on its last ocean voyage before it was to be retired and scrapped. There are reckless decisions made to save money and little did the characters know that the last voyage would ultimately be so final and the scrapping would be a bit premature and occur before reaching the final port.

The movie includes a song called “The Morning After” that became a hit single in 1973 when a version of it was released by Maureen McGovern. No, I’m not a film and music savant, though I do remember the song. I know how to search the Internet and this info is all on Wikipedia, the modern version of the old, pre-cyber age encyclopedia sets that doesn’t require a visit to the library or shelling out tons of money to door-to-door salespeople for volumes that will soon be outdated.

Lines from the movie’s song were in my head when I woke up on Saturday. “There’s got to be a morning after … blah blah blah …. we have a chance to find the sunshine … blah blah blah … if we can hold on through the night … blah blah blah … it’s waiting right outside the storm …blah blah blah.” (Yes, this is an accurate transcription of how I remember lyrics to many, many songs.)

 I will avoid looking
at you.

This earworm was most definitely a result of the anxiety and stress felt after heaping the same upon dear Kiki on Friday. Then there were the worries about how I would be received by her, quite literally, the morning after. 

Keeks was extra meow-y the morning after the vet visit of the night before. I couldn’t tell if she was asking for extra loving and adoration or if she was still trying to expel from her soul the recent trauma of being stuffed into a carrier and brought to the veterinarian to be held, poked, prodded, and stuck with a needle for the extraction of blood. She meowed if I was in another room. She meowed when I was next to her. 

She let me stroke her head like always, but after a few seconds, she would back up just out of reach, as if to torture me a little bit. And meow as if she wanted more, but I would have to really stretch to reach her. While meowing from the stairs, she would turn her head to avoid looking at me when I arrived, and tuck herself smaller. It worked. I felt tortured. Very effective, Miss Kiki.

It's clear who has the upper paw at The BungaLowell. Not that it was ever a question. Now, to “… keep on looking for the light.”