You know that moment when, you first wake up and ... something's not quite right but you can't put your finger on it?
I heard a scuffling noise. And a pill bottle rattling. I sat up under our mosquito netting and stared, bleary-eyed and jet-lagged at what appeared to be a grey cat. Large haunches and a tail. My husband, in the most matter-of-fact, dead-pan voice said: "There is a monkey in our room."
The creature raised its head above my suitcase, and a what-would-have-been-adorable-in-a-zoo-but-not-in-my-bedroom monkey face stared back at me. He had my prescription arthritis medication in his little monkey hands and was studiously trying to open the child-proof cap.
Seriously? A monkey?! What the ...
I didn't even know there WERE monkeys in Awassa, much less that they would invite themselves in for an intimate perusal of my intimate apparel. Visions of a crazed monkey trying to get at us through the mosquito netting flashed through my head, but apparently instinct took over.
I clapped my hands like I used to do to my cat Boo when she was being naughty: "GET *clap* OUT *clap* OF *clap* HERE *clap clap clap* "
And like some weird little vision, he jumped up on the windowsill, gave me one last pitying glance, and hopped out through the window.
Which I had left open. D'oh! *forehead slap*
Husband to the rescue. Window shut. Both of us staring out the screen at the monkey who was completely nonplussed at the sound of the window slamming and who jumped, quite nonchalantly, up on the little parapet next to our room, brazenly giving us a view of his bright blue balls.
No lie. They were day-glo blue. A nice little "bon-voyage" from Curious George. The children's books just don't do him justice.
I heard a scuffling noise. And a pill bottle rattling. I sat up under our mosquito netting and stared, bleary-eyed and jet-lagged at what appeared to be a grey cat. Large haunches and a tail. My husband, in the most matter-of-fact, dead-pan voice said: "There is a monkey in our room."
The creature raised its head above my suitcase, and a what-would-have-been-adorable-in-a-zoo-but-not-in-my-bedroom monkey face stared back at me. He had my prescription arthritis medication in his little monkey hands and was studiously trying to open the child-proof cap.
Seriously? A monkey?! What the ...
I didn't even know there WERE monkeys in Awassa, much less that they would invite themselves in for an intimate perusal of my intimate apparel. Visions of a crazed monkey trying to get at us through the mosquito netting flashed through my head, but apparently instinct took over.
I clapped my hands like I used to do to my cat Boo when she was being naughty: "GET *clap* OUT *clap* OF *clap* HERE *clap clap clap* "
And like some weird little vision, he jumped up on the windowsill, gave me one last pitying glance, and hopped out through the window.
Which I had left open. D'oh! *forehead slap*
Husband to the rescue. Window shut. Both of us staring out the screen at the monkey who was completely nonplussed at the sound of the window slamming and who jumped, quite nonchalantly, up on the little parapet next to our room, brazenly giving us a view of his bright blue balls.No lie. They were day-glo blue. A nice little "bon-voyage" from Curious George. The children's books just don't do him justice.
No comments:
Post a Comment