The Kryptonite

Yesterday morning, as I made my first protein shake of the day, I decided that it was time to give the carpets in my house a vigorous cleansing courtesy of my trusty red Bissell vacuum cleaner.

I believe I've mentioned my self-diagnosed OCD in previous blog posts, so the aforementioned thought process should really come as no surprise to any of you. On top of that, the carpets had not been vacuumed since Joey's arrival, meaning the fibers were intertwined with an inordinate amount of cat hair. A nervous facial tick was beginning to form in the corner of my mouth from the mere thought of the amount of filthy matter wedged into my carpet over the course of the last five days.

As I pulled the vacuum cleaner out of an upstairs closet in my office, I passed by a casually napping Joey with his body hugged along a window, looking like a peaceful angel who was secretly plotting my demise.

I quietly transported the vacuum cleaner to the master bedroom to begin my ritualistic cleaning. Yes, I have a systematic order by which I vacuum the rooms of the house - always beginning with the master bath.

Don't judge me!

As I tiptoed down the hallway and distanced myself from Joey, I recalled JM telling me that he had an enormous fear of vacuum cleaners and would often run and hide instantly upon hearing the roaring 12 amp motor of a ferocious carpet cleansing device.

Needless to say that she was absolutely correct.

By the time I finished with the master bedroom and bathroom, the vacuum cleaner and I moseyed our way down the halls and back into my office. As expected Joey was no longer napping window-side and had disappeared. Fifteen minutes later I completed the task at hand and began my search for Joey in earnest.

After operating a search and rescue mission that would make Jack Bauer proud, I ultimately found him hiding under my bed, protecting himself amongst the deep recesses of the shrouded darkness and miscellaneous boxes that had accumulated over the years. It was almost as if Joey had built his own "Fortress of Solitude" behind the tan bed skirt that draped my box spring.

I reached out to Joey with an olive branch. "Come on buddy. The only thing we have to fear is fear itself" I proclaimed in my best impersonation of FDR.

Joey blinked once, yet no other muscle in his body even hinted at making a move.

I decided to leave him be and realized he would return to the public spotlight once he was comfortable that all "danger" was no more.

When Joey finally returned back to my office, with his head on a swivel like a furry little Hines Ward after an Ed Reed interception, I glanced at the clock and realized that over five hours had transpired since the vacuum cleaner was powered down.

You've tipped your hand, Joe. I now know your weakness.