My Household

Not a poem today, just a description of my household. Come to my house, and you will notice first the dog, always the dog. She watches me all day long, and it must be her job. She lays down where she has line of sight, and if I move, her eyes follow me. At my feet is the old cat, waiting for leftover cereal milk. If I don't let her have it, she becomes more strident, and on the most impatient days, she boxes at my ankles with her paws. No claws, thank you very much. It is more a warning shot of what she COULD do, were she bigger and say, tiger-sized. The other cats are in deep hiding. By this I mean they are sleeping somewhere, and I am too lazy to go look for them. One is probably on my sons bed, a favorite spot to be, and the half wild cat that spends most of her time outside has probably gotten in the closet, a favorite place on a rainy morning like today. Other than the animals, I could tell you all the wrong things I see (too much clutter and way too much dust) but I won't. Instead, I will say, the house is cozy and I have a pot of coffee to drink, so life is good. I can look out in the back yard and admire how green it is with the preposterous amount of rain we have had. If I cared to, I could step out and smell the lilacs, which are in full bloom, but I don't care to. Instead, I will drink more coffee and maybe, just maybe, catch up on reading the book. That is actually a misnomer. There is nothing to catch up on. I simply am reading the book because I want to read it. I have no deadline nor expectation of when to finish it. Except for the due date. It is, after all a library book, and pesky due dates are the trade off for not having to buy every book I want to read. For not having to store them and worry about them, except when they are in my keeping for the three weeks (renew twice sometimes!). And I can do anything for three weeks...even keep track of a book.