Yetty 's morings

Yetty wakes up.

She throws an eye at the kitchen and zooms in like a camera gluing together vague pixels into a clear most simple plan of making a hot chocolate.

She will not bend down into the cupboard to get her favourite pot for warming milk, no the most painless way would be to use the silver casarrole drying by the sink.

Her mind pulls her out of bed and draws her towards the target, just for an instant, before she realises, it was yet another lucid daydream. Her mind every day is bescoming more a little friendly ghost who passes trough walls.

As Yetty's mind elastically snaps back into her body, her legs and arms jut out, flailing in the air.

Yetty finds her self in the very common situation many times speculated on summer walks and documentary programs, that of a beetle, a rather large and misfortunate beetle which has up turned and is lying on its back, unable to flip onto its legs, usually as a predator looms dribbling overhead.

Yetty's legs of their own accord cycle about in the air whilst the hands now bulkier in muscle jack up the back and using suspension of the elbows produce boing-boing movements, before attempting to ejaculate the body out of bed.

This activity can result in a colorful variety of endings. No unfortunately Yetty does not project on to the ceiling or scuttle on to the walls. Lets be realistic. This is not a Kafka story. The outcome of her take off may result in the bed rib snapping and the poor fool finding herself in a worse bugger than before. Or she might succeed in simulating a short chicken like flight and landing a foot in the water glass that had perched on the floor waiting for such occasion all night. She might not even make it out of the bed and remain a while upgrading technique.

Assuming to her benefit that she managed to get off, and out of the lying position, and is now happily pattering trough the house on her own two feet, we would follow Yetty to the kitchen as her first morning instinct is that of eating or pouring something into her noisy and needy belly. She would pick up the silver pot, pour milk into it, wait for it to warm up. Her generous feminine and slightly hairy form would be exposed to the youthostell across the yard trough the kitchen window, to seen by tourists and children of the cleaning lady, who in turn would scream making cubic meters of snow avalanche from the roof covering Yetty's window and blocking their further view. The children would be convinced they saw "that naked ghost again mummy" whilst the ever ready Asian toursits would have, intermingled with snow and window steam, great photographic shots of the peculiar domesticated european Yetty.

Yetty oblivious to the commotion, would pour the warmed up milk into a cup, stir chocolate powder into the milk, and warble with the cup in hand to the bedroom yet again. One sip would empty half the hot chocolate into her stomach instantly silencing the frightful growls which had been echoing from within. She would place the cup on to a table and reach out towards the drawer to pull out a pair of heart print knickers of such dimensions that if the cloth where cut differently could furnish the interior of a Bentley.

Although some days understandabley she gives up all together, on the more enthusiastic of morings, Yetty will go trough a ritual dance based around these knickers. A dance which has nothing at all to do with yoga, or the new age earth connecting bollox, and one quite incomprehensible to the school of anorexic fashion designers on the other side of the street who Yetty has for the purpose of not using curtains and having some light seep in, chosen to ignore. She will hook one part of the heart print knicker on to a toe, which will remain on the ground, whilst stretching the other end of the knickers with her hand, creating a type of knicker a bow, and with one leg lifted in the style of a flamingo she will aim to poke it trough a knicker hole, by this time hopping about on the knicker clawing foot. She will wobble. Swap feet. Stretch the knickers horizontally ,vertically, swatting the air with her legs frantically. And although some days she does manage to bulls eye both her legs trough the leg holes and get the blooming things on, whilst standing. More frequently she will surrender to the call of the bed, upon which she will sit, and try pull the pants on, only to topple dis balanced instead. And yes, as you suspect, she will have to go through the whole getting up procedure again.

What the hell is wrong with Yetty? you may ask. She sounds beastly. Yet, people say that she is blessed. Indeed. Along side all other symptoms, here described, Yetty trough out the day gets kicked from the inside. If you where to look carefully , you would probbley see, mysterious wriggling and bashing about in her belly. Gruesome you think? In fact like creatures say most of her symptoms so far are common and rather mild, for Yetty's real name is Chelsea, and she's no beast, just an ordinary girl next door pregnant with child.