Singing a song of Saturday morning

This morning has been a steady string of quiet, simple joys. I woke early, made the bed and took care of the kitties. Put away the breakfast dishes and started a pot of coffee. Kicked the thermostat up a degree or two. Last night I'd cleaned the flat...giving the bathroom a thorough going-over, washing three days' worth of dishes, and sweeping the kitchen floor. It was so pleasant to wake up to a clean house. Time was, I resented the connection between my sense of well-being and the cleanliness of my surroundings, but now I accept it and do what I must.

With fresh coffee perking and two cats twisting themselves around my ankles, I made and enjoyed a leisurely breakfast...toast, coffee, water, and some vegetable soup. Vegetable soup?! Not the most orthodox of early morning meals, but that's what happens when Mother Hubbard's cupboards go bare!

So then I brought a second cup of coffee over to the armchair in the living room, where I alternated reading with gazing through the window just to my left. Lately it seems as though the sky over Hamtramck is always grey and overcast, though not oppressively so. I don't mind it. I find something very appealing in the combination of old crooked houses, black bare-branched trees, and low sky. It makes me feel like I'm a character inside one of the wonderfully-illustrated books I read as a girl (Edward Gorey? Royal Tenenbaums? Madeleine?).

Just now Kai and Meera, perched atop the low bookcase in front of the window, began making 'yik yikking' sounds. I stood up to see what might be causing the fuss. Both their tails were swishing wildly back and forth; their bodies were tense, and their ears pointed forward. Just outside the window grows a tree, bare of course, bare except for the extremely fat squirrel running back and forth on a branch at about our eye level. Kai stood on his hind legs to paw at the window. The squirrel must have heard the scritching because all of a sudden he stopped mid-stride, and stared for a good three seconds at our window (what a sight that must have been! two eager-eyed kittens and their lady, scrunched together on the other side of the glass!). Kai pawed again at the window, and the squirrel ran up and over to a higher, safer part of the tree. He stared again for a few seconds, and then decided the kittens were no threat, trapped as they were in their domestic prison. He leaped to the branch closest to our window, balanced his substantial weight on his back legs, and proceeded to take a leisurely bath. First he licked his front paws, then washed his nose, his ears, groomed his belly (not unlike a cat, I'd like to point out). He went over his entire bushy tail, and finally gave a good scratch to each ear before bounding off in search of nuts. I thought the kittens were going to go insane...

I feel content and relaxed right now, fully caffeinated, kittenated, and ready for the day. If only every day began with such simple satisfaction, with such little rush. Before I leave for my last Saturday class, I'll finish a load of laundry, pack an overnight bag to take to my grandmother's, and find my waitressing outfit for work tonight.