I figure most of you readers really wish you could be me, and I regret you can’t. The Universe only allows one at a time. But I’m obliged to all of you for not saying so. I’d be forever having to work my mind around in ways so’s I don’t feel sorry for you because I recognize you don’t visit here looking for sympathy and pity.
Part of the reason you probably wish you were me is that the Universe is always dumping surprise blessings on me just for the hell of it. Same as It does you, the difference being I tag and number them so’s they don’t go unnoticed.
It’s a low-overcast day out there and on the cold, wet side. I just went out to make sure Tabby and Shiva the Cow Cat were staying warm and dry, took them out some old clothing and wadded it into the cat houses just to provide an edge.
But while I was folding a Mexican rug into Tabby’s hideyhole I glanced across the meadow at the garden, which fared poorly past summer because I was hauling water and it was a drought. ” Something green over there,” thinks I, and proceeded to soak my footwear mucking over for a looksee.
The moisture’s brought back the garlic I put out year-before-last! Just look at that stuff enjoying life it thought had spang passed it by.
Law law law! I don’t blame you for wishing you were me. If I weren’t so would I.