[Come summer heat, much of my blogging momentum melts away. Hence an experiment until Labor Day: fifty minimalist posts about whatever.]
Sasha our cat has been spending the latter part of these summer nights curled up on the desk chair in my office, nose tucked between her paws. The chair has a cool mesh seat and likely smells of me. Between eight and nine in the morning she then comes down the hall to our bedroom, whether or not we’re still sleeping, for a belly rub.
But since I began these daily shorts, I’ve been waking earlier than usual to draft a new one while the house is quiet and my mind still in touch with whatever is inside it. When I came to my desk this morning, the chair was therefore occupied. Rather than dislodge a sleeping cat, I gently rolled chair and cat away from the desk and sat myself in front of the computer on a backless, not comfortable, ergonomic “thing” usually pushed aside into a corner of the room.
Crazy cat lady? Perhaps. Except Sasha was not insensible to my largesse. As I began to type, I heard low contented purring behind me. The perfect soundtrack for blogging.
ON BEING OLD 
Glad to hear all is well. I was worried a few days ago with images of you prone on the floor bleeding from your face. I hoped then your spectacles were not the cause of it. A lot of falls of the ‘more mature’ are blamed on multi focal spectacles which distort distance. Just mentioning this from purely selfish reasons. I have been eye tested and advised to go for multi-focals. The cost was an astronomical $ 420.-. Apart from that, some of my mature friends have since told me that multi-focal glasses are difficult.
I do think, Mina, your short pieces are delightful and far more tighter than the more laboured ones. I do hope ‘the more laboured’ doesn’t result in a rebuke. I did like the longer ones too but love the shorter ones more.
I am sure Sasha might concur.
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It wasn’t the glasses, Gerard. I don’t wear multi-focals. I once tried them and found them impossible, especially on stairs. But yes, all is almost back to normal. A couple of facial scabs, and a bruise on the back of right hand, bigger one on left knee — all of which will eventually disappear. But thank you very much for your concern.
The short ones are certainly easier to read. I’m not sure, though, that “tighter” is always better than longer. One (both reader and writer) loses all the texture and nuance of an experience when it’s written short. But, as I say over and over again in each little piece, it’s summer. Glad you find the shorties “delightful!”
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Glad that you are on the mend, Nina…as for multi-focals, I LOVE them…it beats changing glasses every time you want to read that fine print! As for stairs,
you’re right , I put them on the top of my head when I do stairs!!! Again, love the summer shorties!
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But I don’t need glasses, Rita, except for reading. They fixed me up with 20/20 distance vision when my cataracts were removed and replaced with artificial lenses. So I’ve only got the one pair. Thanks again for the “love,” though. (Something we writers just can’t get enough of!)
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Cats don’t like to be disturbed for something like chores. They expect you to work around them and I do. They trained me early in life.
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I didn’t have cats early in life, so I’m just learning. Apparently, I must now live to serve her.
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Welcome to the club!
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I think it’d be a good idea to add another very comfortable chair to your office. I often trade chairs with Nechama…
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Very good idea, Shimon, but there’s no room for one more chair, what with large desk, printer, bookcases, filing cabinets, etc. I already have a very comfortable second chair in the office, but it’s a bentwood rocker, and Sasha doesn’t like the movement when she jumps up, so she doesn’t ever use it. And it’s not usable as an alternate desk chair. We do what we can.
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I think this is more reasonable than the time I waste relocating ladybirds… though it gives my husband something to laugh at.
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If a ladybird is a ladybug, tell your laughing husband you’re supposed to relocate them. “Ladybug, ladybug, fly away home. Your house is on fire and your children are gone.” Didn’t little English children sing that song? Over here, we did.
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