A change up…

Today I left the garage door closed, so the neighbors are thinking I’m dead.

On the weekends, I always open the garage door and begin my day before the sun has officially announced itself. In fact, I did that very thing at 6 A.M., while sipping my life sustaining brew, and gazing up into the heavens, before the birds and squirrels had ventured from their cozy nests, or the neighbors, for that matter. Justdog knew I was up, as he peered at me sleepily with one eye open, but not caring to rouse himself before I had my coffee. He’s a very smart dog.

My husband was up at 5 A.M, going over to the coast to fish with a friend, so the house was empty, well, except for Justdog and Justcat…. and JustI, of course.

The world is mine!

I finished my second cup of coffee, and took Justdog for his morning constitutional before daybreak. The air was crisp, and there was a gentle breeze, but winter is basically over in Florida, so I only had on two layers of clothes, and no winter jacket, for a change.

Walking the dog stirred my appetite, so when we got back I decided to forego another cup of coffee, and go inside to fix myself a hearty breakfast. The sun wasn’t quite up yet, so I closed the garage door, with just a crack for Justcat, so he could come and go, and sit in the sun on the front porch.

I had no sooner finished breakfast and started up the computer, when I heard my 75 year old neighbor’s garage door open. I know the squeak and squeal of each garage door on our cul de sac. From the window in my office, I spied the neighbor walking the lid to my trash bin over to my house. I loaned her the trash bin for her yard waste about a month ago, and she returned the bin, but forgot to return the lid. I see her frequently, but forget to bring the lid home. Obviously, not all that important.

My first thought was, what the heck is she doing up so early. She usually sleeps in ’til 9 or 10 A.M.

Then I realized I had left my garage door mostly down, and she was looking for signs of life. She thinks I’m on my death bed, or that I’ve croaked.

On our cul de sac, an open garage door is a sign of life or a welcome mat for the neighbors, and I have inadvertently sent a signal to all that something is awry. I may as well have hung a quarantine sign on the front door.

I’m thinking I better go open up the garage, to ease everyone’s minds. I’ll be hearing about my faux pas for the better part of next week, as each and every one will ask about my health, seeing as I did a change-up.

Me thinks I will feign a quick recovery.

 

 

 

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Guess the number of black cats

 

 

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crazy cat lady starter kit revised

Adopted by a cat in formal attire

Tuxedo
Tuxedo

This formally attired gentleman appeared on my doorstep at the end of October. After he made a home for himself in my garage, he started demanding food in a very large voice. “I prefer Fancy Feast and only the ones in gravy. Don’t bother with dry food, I’ll only eat it if you mix it with the canned.” He has trained me well and I now cater to his whims. Tuxedo, as I call him, must have been catered to by some other lucky family, but I can’t find anyone who will claim him. He’s a lovable sort and doesn’t wander far from his new home (or his food dish). I’m a sucker for animals [sigh].

Tuxedo, cleaning the gravy from his face
Cleaning the gravy from his face
Living the good life and dreaming of dinner
Living the good life and dreaming of dinner