gray is my favorite color…
Well, it’s not really, purple is, but that’s how the song goes, and yesterday when I woke up, it was dreary and rainy and misty and foggy and everywhere I looked, there was gray.
So I wrote about that grayness, over at the blue muse, wrote about questions with no answers, and all the things I’m not afraid of, and the one thing that I am. Which is not gray.
And then later in the day, I found out that I will have to work all weekend if I want to go away with my family next weekend, even though I was supposed to be taking a jewelry class from a metal clay master on Saturday as a gift from a friend.
That is the way my life works (tiny violins playing in background).
And that is the way it worked yesterday, as gray poured from the sky, for hours. I don’t think it rained steadily, all day long, even once this summer. But yesterday was that day. And along with all that gray came the feeling sorry for myself and the melancholy mood and the wishing I were anywhere but here, and then also, this:
I went to check on the outdoor kitties, who don’t wish to stay inside even when it’s raining, and there was Brett, standing on two legs, peeking in the window of the back door in that cute little way he does, front paws up on the sill, meowing his cute little let-me-in meow that makes his nose wrinkle.
Just then, when I looked out at him looking in, he had a big, fat chipmunk in his mouth. And even still I could see his little nose wrinkling, still see that somehow he was trying to meow around a mouth full of chipmunk fur, and was asking me to let him in.
Well now, I couldn’t tell if the chipmunk was still alive or not, but either way, I was not opening that door. So I walked away in the hopes that he would get tired of the game and take his prey elsewhere. I came back five minutes later, but he was still there, peering in the window, still meowing with his mouth full.
So, I waited five more minutes and went back again. This time, the chipmunk was, um, clearly dead. Ugh. And by this time it was raining so hard that the back entryway was starting to flood, which meant that I was going to have to do something about the chipmunk before he starting floating his way toward the door.
Off I went, in search of my rain boots, and just then, the mail lady came by to drop off a package, which she had to set down right next to Mr. Chipmunk’s remains, as it was the only dry spot left. Double Ugh. Poor mail lady. Poor chipmunk. Poor me who now had to go out and find the shovel in the pouring rain and clean up this mess.
A mess that was made by my sweet little kitten, who, ten minutes later, was dry and happy and purring in my lap.
And this kitten, well, he’s gray, too.
What a coincidence.