ode to a fussy morning

April 25, 2009 candacemorris 3 Comments

there are saturday mornings when:
  • your eggs don't turn out right.
  • you irritability irritates even you.
  • your cat won't listen to reason and insists on biting thumbtacks off the wall.
  • your sun doesn't know if it wants to come out or not.
  • you cannot get other people out of your head.
  • your feet and heart cannot get warm.
  • you have a lot and nothing to do.
when the smoke of unkindness lingers, when stomachs protest of the previous night's wine, when you feel dismissed as unchecked voice mail, when hangnails snag your soul.

then:
  • he lights candles
  • he arranges flowers
  • he makes the bed
  • he turns on DeBussy
  • he hands me a book and an excuse to just be
~crm

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3 comments:

stephy said...

Your cat won't listen to reason! That made me laugh out loud! Sorry for your mood. I completely empathize if that helps.

Linda Lu said...

ick... I hate it when the eggs don't turn out right.

fussy schmussy.

the Saint is your perfect yang. always. hope that things became less of a fuss AND I hope those stupid eggs rolled over in their garbage can grave when they heard the news that the rest of your day was splendid.





darn eggs.