Nov 29 2010
The Usual
It’s a sunny morning, and you know what that means. It’s still barely 32F/0C outside. I’m drinking hot, black coffee from my tiny, as yet unbroken cup. The kittens are sharpening their claws on the records (a few days ago, I discovered the damage they had done to the Martin Denny section and walked away, counting to a thousand and reminding myself to be zen). The kittens have an amazing ability to tell which things are really important to me. A few days ago, they broke one of my grandmother’s antique wine glasses, and I finally packed up my birthday lamp and put it away when they knocked it over eight too many times.
Audrey has left the house in kitten disgust, as she does after every meal, and Schatzi just strolled by in her bright blue sweater.
I used to try and bring her back home, but mostly, by the time I’d put on shoes and another sweater, she had wandered off again. Now I look forward to her brief, tail-wagging visits in the morning.
Perusing the local newspaper, which is published once a week, I came across the following classified ad: “GOATS WANTED for brush control not for eating. 9xx-xxxx”
Country living.