I arrived home from London two days late thanks to the volcano in Iceland. Just in time to panic about closing on the house this coming Wednesday. Not a lot of time to tie up loose ends what with a long weekend thrown in the mix. Tomorrow's my first day back at work after three weeks gone and the office looks like a tornado - or perhaps a crazed, sleep deprived woman looking for a passport that was already in her purse - hit it. So is my sitting down in the middle of it all to write a blog entry not compelling evidence of my devotion to the written word?
No, it is not. It's compelling evidence that the cat in my lap is just to damn cute to disturb. She's right, though. I need to not move faster than my brain can think. I need to sit. I need to slow. I need to not do. At least for as long as it takes to write a blog entry. Maybe even for as much time as it takes to write a blog entry and have a sip of this coffee I poured myself before it gets cold.
Only it's already cold. I thought I'd just poured it. Further proof that I'm out of step with the dance of life. Further proof that the cat is smarter than I am.
The most compelling proof is in my face every morning when I wake up, though. Before the brain has a chance to warm up and wind itself around every little anxiety and deadline piercing into my consciousness she reminds me, with a stretch and a purr and an affectionate sniff of my nose, that right now we're comfy and that is what requires my immediate attention. Nothing else. And she's right. Because she's smarter than I am.
Too bad the dog's in charge. Well, at least his bathtub sized bladder is, as he's been reminding me for the majority of the time I've been writing this. Guess I am getting up after all.
Come to think of it, that's usually what eventually gets me out of bed in the mornings too.
12 hours ago