I know you're thinking that the Genome is jumping the rails. But I'm not actually saying that the cats are responsible for the feeling of foreboding. Not even a brindled cat can bring that much damage in a single morning. The feeling I had was undoubtedly the work of Princess Amy, that bad apple of the limbic system.
If you've been following along, you will be familiar with this princess and her dirty work. She has a tendency to stir things up from time to time by pushing the thalamus around causing an imbalance in naturally occurring brain chemicals called feel-good hormones. If left unchecked, civilization staggers and Hell's foundations are shaken.
"Not today, Amy," I said to myself and then, "Poopsie, I have a feeling of impending doom." This last statement arose at the sound of soft footsteps coming down the hall. When those footsteps entered the room, she looked my way and burst into laughter on the magnitude of a steam boiler explosion. Sometimes I wonder if cossack blood runs in the veins of this descendent of the Russian Enlightenment.
"Not funny," I said.
"But, Beignet is stretched across you like you're a moose that he's just brought down, and Uma is on your pillow looking like the hat Daniel Boone wore." She said as though she felt it excused her laughter.
"A moose?" I said, offended not a little. And neither would you be only a little offended if the woman you loved described you that way.
"No, not a moose," she said. "Boone, as in Daniel, and why do you think you won't enjoy yourself today?"
"Well you know how it is," I said, "some mornings shine with promise of a day that will be the merriest of all the glad new year and others not so much."
She gave me a look that included a moue. It is called a moue I believe, when someone shoves out the puckered lips and then pulls them back to starting position?
After a moment of silence, which by the way is always to be avoided, I said, "In many ways, life at the moment has its drawbacks."
On this solemn note, the phone on my beside suddenly tootled, causing me to skip to the high hills, which dislodged Beignet somewhere into the surrounding air. Glancing at the screen on the phone, I saw that some species of Aunt was on the other end of the call.
"This might be a good time to order the lilies," I said to Ms Wonder but it was too late. She'd disappeared into the salle de bains.