Panther Prattle

The Late Bird Enjoys Dew

Chirping birds... how peaceful... it's been ages since I've listened to birds chase the moon away, I think when my eyelids flutter open, and the morning sun washes across my periwinkle accent wall.

I pry my lips into a toothy smile but do not attempt to rise from the comfort of the king-size bed and squish further beneath the cushiony soft, Egyptian cotton sheets kissing my skin.

The bones of my shins crack and pop as I flex my toes, feet, and my calves -forcing oxygenated blood to cycle my sleep-leaden lower extremities.

"Oh shit," I sigh after I crank my neck left and the neon orange numbers of the alarm clock rudely flash 8:20 AM with enough gusto that neither my readers nor bifocals are required.

My right-hand snatches and flips the edge of the pearly-white jacquard comforter up and off my ventral cavity before I propel myself into a seated position.

My torso swivels my legs off the mattress forcing my feet to thud against the coolness of the grainy wood floor

I inhale deeply while frantically scanning the perimeter for my fuzzy navy-blue slippers, when my intuition inquires, "Why are you tripping?"

"I am late for work," I whine in the direction of the full-standing mirror.

"I hate being late," I continue when my intuition drops an octave and reminds, "Umm... you do recall that you are retiring today, don't you?" with a level of authority that causes me to look over my shoulder expecting whom, I am still uncertain.

Giggles leap past my throat and windchime across the room faster than I can stand and ambulate into the walk-in closet.

I pause at the entryway, float my hand up, flip the light switch, and flood the space with a pinkish-white hue.

"These will work," I say after I step in, strip a pair of jeans from a wooden hanger, and flip them onto my shoulder.

I step further in, pivot right, and snatch a blue and pink pinstripe t-shirt from a shelf filled with others of varying colors.

Stooping, I select a pair of wedge-heel sandals to complete my ensemble, execute a perfect Étendre, and glide back into my bedroom.

I drop the shoes onto the floor, stop in front of an inlaid bureau, pick my cell phone from its ledge, then casually dial my secretary's direct line.

"Hi Emile," I start after I strut forward and toss my outfit onto my unmade bed.

"Yes, of course," I continue.

"Yes, everything is fine. I decided to ease into the day," I assure with my eyes rolling heavenward.

"I will be there at Noon... see you then," I gush before ending the call without a formal goodbye.