It didn’t seem like a bad idea, despite the warning that came with the pop-up hamper. “Warning: Hamper is spring-loaded and may release suddenly.”
I read the words. I did. Intellectually, I knew what they meant.
In practice, however, I put the collapsed pop-up hamper on the bed. Cats Cosmo, Isaac, and Dickens sat on the perimeter of the hamper, in a semi-circle of kitty intrigue.
The hamper was held in check by two toggles. Unaware of the mayhem I was about to cause, I nonchalantly released the right-hand toggle.
What followed was a blur of hamper, cats, Julie, socks, bedspread, ceiling fixture, cat hair, eyeglasses, books, and Puffs plus lotion with menthol-y Vicks goodness. The hamper shot across the room. The cats set high jump records. I smacked myself in the head. A sock somehow dangled from the ceiling light.
The hamper now sits serenely next to the dresser. Each cat hisses while passing by, but the hamper is unconcerned.
I can’t help but laugh too. That makes my morning heart attack sound boring. Somehow one of the littlest cats managed to crawl up my dresser behind the drawers and when I opened my sock drawer he jumped out in my face, but no vicks, no socks, lotion, flying socks or ceiling fixtures were involved.
I didn’t see him for a few hours and I still can’t figure out how he got his head through that tiny little space but he was pretty lucky that I put socks on early today. He wasn’t meowing so I think he was taking a nap in there and I startled him as much as he startled me.