During the night I was so cold I got up and put on socks. By getting out of bed I disrupted Fern and Gracie who were huddled beside me. It seems we were all cold. An afghan solved my problem and I quickly got cozy and warm. Fern and Gracie each took a side, leaned against me, got comfortable and went back to sleep. That is the last thing I remember.

Today is one of those blank slate days when my memory drawer is closed tightly and can’t be opened. This second paragraph has had several lives, and each was erased when the trail led nowhere. I’m sort of stuck. I filled the bird feeders hoping a change of scenery would bring memories and random thoughts tumbling out of my head. It didn’t. I came back inside, sat here for a while then went upstairs and made my bed. Aside from my bedroom looking neater, nothing was accomplished, nothing came to mind. I then changed the litter boxes not really expecting any sort of memory flood but the boxes needed to be changed. I figured why not. I was upstairs anyway. I came back downstairs and am now in the same spot I have been most of the morning. I’m thinking next I’ll put the litter in the trunk for Monday’s dump run. Maybe the front yard will be a source for inspiration. If not, at least I did a lot of chores.

I caught the litter bag on the screen door and tore open a small hole. I didn’t know until I got to the car and saw a pile of litter beginning to form. Looking behind me I saw a trail of litter Hansel and Gretel would have had no trouble following. Luckily I use pine litter, not clay, so I don’t have to do any sweeping. It will become mulch. That was one exciting trip to the trunk.

I was always a kid with a great imagination who believed in fairies and gnomes and elves. Witches scared me. I think the witch in Snow White was the reason. She was diabolical. For a long time I thought any woman with a wart on her face was a witch. When we saw the movie we were really young, and my mother said my brother hid under the seat whenever the witch was on the screen. I watched. He wasn’t a brave kid. Even Santa scared him.

When we moved to South Yarmouth, the woman who lived next door had a few warts on her face. I had never forgotten about witches thanks to the one with the apple and the wart on her nose; however, I had long ago realized they weren’t real, but after meeting the neighbor and getting to know her, I had to reconsider.