In the Morning, Look In the Mirror

We moved the kitties one at a time to the house a week ago Sunday, starting with Drusy. Our delicate darling travels poorly and cries piteously. We knew we were in for an afternoon of diva drama when we stuffed her in the cat carrier and drove six blocks from the apartment to the house. Drusy did not disappoint. She cried for a day and a half and had a kitty hissyfit when I took her up a flight of stairs. The cat box was in the attic. You will be pleased to hear that, unlike other disinfectants, hydrogen peroxide does not hurt and the bubbles amuse, even if the abrasions cause the neighbors to nod slowly and ring the gendarmes. Topaz adapted immediately to all the additional space, the flights of stairs, the curtains and the windowsills. I swear she took up smoking.

Here, Drusy discovers the fireplace mantle is perhaps a little higher off the ground than the pussycat who had never seen stairs before Sunday likes to leap.

Today is Tuesday, the day after Labor Day. Yesterday was Mom's birthday and I forgot to call because being self-absorbed is a calling not a character flaw, but today we talked about tomato plants and Grandpa's microwave. Pete and I have started our new life with a pot of homemade yogurt and tomatoes we grew in the backyard. Students have returned to the unnamed university and the city is overrun by police and people directed by police to keep moving. The tiny town on this side of the river is filled to the brim with cheerful persons. I walked to pilates class and encountered no end of pedestrians smiling and saying hello. Yeah, that was a close call.