Monday

If I were the "easily frustrated" type, today I would have been easily frustrated. It's a gloomy gray day and somewhere in some news story I read that we have 51 more days until spring. I'm sorry, but that seems like a lot. I prefer to think that we're nearly done with January, that February is very short, and that even the first days of March portend spring. Doesn't that sound better?





Cats. There's some good news, even as I did not dwell here on last week's iffy news and so you wont appreciate it. Nor is it totally good news: sometime in the middle of the night, Stop Sign's little kitty came back. He and his sister (the gender is a guess) had disappeared a couple of weeks ago and we assumed that they were dead. We do have a lot of coyotes near us. Well, the current theory is that they got lost and one of them made it back. He was so hungry that he screeched by the door to get our attention. Ed was up so he got his food.

This morning, the exchange between Stop Sign and the little one was telling: she accepted him into the lair but fought him off when he tried to join her for breakfast. And she teaches him exactly those bad manners. When later I bring out food for him, he utters a little hiss, even though he knows I am bringing him food. The two of them are the world's grouchiest cats!

(the little one)






Breakfast. All good. No frustration there.





The rest of the morning is devoted to mom stuff. Petty frustrations throughout.

No kids today. Just mom stuff. I visit her and guide her through some paper signing with one agency person standing by, handing one sheet after the next. This should have been straightforward. It wasn't straightforward. Too, she asked for one more thing out of her old apartment. Dang! I had already given permission for the managers to enter it and take away (as donations) any and all items left behind. I don't want her to be charged February rent.

And so after my visit, I hurry over to the apartment one more time. I get the item she identified today (phew!) and the two chairs she changed her mind on last night. However, stuffing the two chairs into my small car is a problem. I try the trunk. I try a folded down back seat. I try the front seat. Ed happens to call just then and suggests the roof. I have no straps to tie them there so I shove them somewhere between the front seat and my lap. Driving back is an adventure. I can shift gears into the first, second or third, but I'm not so sure about the fourth and fifth. Just as well: I cannot buckle my seat belt, so going slowly is probably a good idea.





At the farmhouse, it strikes me that Ed and I are in a very serious mode. This stuff with my mom is serious. Too, we've been reading too much news. Laughter has fizzled. It's all sweet and kind but still,  somber tones are the new normal. Perhaps it's inevitable. Nonetheless, I'm hoping for a reset to cheerful in the days to come.

So, a day littered with small issues. Perfect material for major frustration. Still, I'm not the "easily frustrated" type. Give me something to chuckle about and I chuckle. Tonight, as Ed pops some corn, I suggest we start with a few episodes of "Curb Your Enthusiasm" before moving onto Band of Brothers. Laughter, followed by humility. It's a good combination.