Keep the Coffee Comimg

When is a toilet not a toilet? Give up? When it is a swimming pool! This morning I came downstairs, let the dogs out then when to go to the bathroom. I jumped a bit when I saw a small mouse swimming in the toilet. He was doing the dog paddle, a bit ironic. I found a container, scooped up the mouse and let it go outside. God speed, wee mousie!

This morning is a delight. It is sunny and warm, 62°. We have a slight breeze. The backyard has the look of fall about it. The oak trees have hanging dead leaves. The ground has disappeared under fallen, crinkly leaves. When the dogs run, the leaves rustle underfoot.

Spiders’ webs are everywhere. I walk around carrying a duster. The worst webs are behind furniture. They are the old webs, thick and long. I haven’t seen any spiders. I wonder where they are.

When I was a kid, I could never pass a pile of leaves without jumping in it. It was a rite of fall. On the way to school I’d walk in the gutters and strew the leaves with my feet. My father and every other father in the neighborhood raked on Saturdays. They’d gather the leaves, rake the piles into the street and set them on fire. I remember the smoke curling into the air. I remember my father in his red jacket standing by the fire and leaning on his rake while he watched the flames.

Daylight savings time meant streetlights came on earlier so we had to go inside. We’d sit and watch TV until supper was ready. I remember The Micky Mouse Club and Superman. I remember hearing my mother at the stove cooking dinner and I remember the sound of her mashing potatoes in the pan with the hand masher. That meant supper was just about ready.

My dance card is empty this week, no events. I have some vacuuming to do, and I need to put some trash into the car for Wednesday, my dump day, but that’s it. My sloth is celebrating slowly, quietly as sloths do.