It is the earliest of mornings in the Blue Ridge. There is a super moon tonight, but I think the Harvest Moon is larger. The unicorn meat eating cats are ecstatic that I have gotten up so early and opened their window.
I am cat sitting for a dear friend, and she has a conundrum. That's a problem, to you and me. She has rescued and neutered a cat, lovely and black, who is FIV positive. That's cat AIDS. There is nothing wrong with him, but he needs a home with no other cats, or with cats who also have FIV+ status. He doesn't have health issues, indeed vets seem to believe that a nutritional disorder may be at the root of an FIV diagnoses.
I am reaching out to you. He has an amazing personality, and his name reflects it...Loverboy. I spent an hour lying on a cool bed, in a house by the water, yesterday. It was the most relaxing experience I have had in a long time, and it was due to supercool Loverboy.
In other news: I am trying to eliminate the smell of cigarette smoke from my apartment. It truly is a lovely refuge, and deserves a lovely scent to occupy it. I have cranberry scent spray, and honeysuckle, and ginger, but it is all overwhelmed by the smell of cigarettes.
I am an earnest writer, and love my coffee and cigarettes, but I didn't smoke, at one time in my life, and I remember the gut-wrenching, ashtray-licking, smell that comes from smoking. It's a damp, dank scent that it absolutely hideous to those who don't smoke. That includes the unicorn meat eating cats. Max, the dog doesn't particularly care, he is that devoted. But it does smell like I have been conducting human sacrifice every day. All day.
I can't smell it. I have a small nose, with sinus problems, and a father who smoked 3 packs a day for decades. My sense of smell has long been blunted. But I can imagine it...I didn't smoke inside at the Old House, but the out-of-doors was so very lovely, I didn't mind. The outdoors here is almost as lovely here, but my large garden is missing. Voila!
And laziness. But enough about my character defects.
Anyway, my angst is coming from my inability, thus far, to avoid smoking in bed...don't try that at home, Ladies and Gentlemen...let a professional do it. I Should (judgement call) get up, take my laptop and coffee and go outside to smoke. I have fire engine red rocking chairs to sit in, surrounded by what small garden I have created here. The temperature is unbelievably pleasant, and the supermoon is out. Yet, I sit in my comfy bed, listening to the dog snore, and watching him twitch, and drink coffee and smoke.
After all, I work to make my bedroom a refuge, and a cozy room, and I feel I have succeeded. I hate to leave this cocoon. But to make it truly cozy, I must.
In other, other news: There are critters out there: opposums, raccoons, deer, and bugs. I realize bugs are necessary to the circle of life, and the environment, but why do they have to be so ugly? And stinkbugs do just that...reek.
Why can't they all look like butterflies? Or Luna moths? Just one of the inconsistencies of life that can drive me crazy. Why do they all have so many legs? And they, for the most part, are colored ugly, as well. Their eyes are big, and some of them bite, and/or suck blood. How disgusting is that?
Bugs are attracted to the light of my laptop screen, and hit me unexpectedly in the back of the neck, or crawl on my hair...no, no. Lightning bugs are pretty, but only shine at dusk and early twilight.
But last night, I discovered that the Shasta daisies shine silver in the moonlight. The night sounds are beautiful, as well. There will be a slow, steady drone later on, of cicadas. But for now, the birdsong pervades the woods. It is quiet and still.