A Good Day

In the not so distant past I recall waking up thinking “today is a good day.” Enjoying, if you will, a Phoenix from the death of the Firebird type of a fresh start; yeah, it was an extraordinary feeling.  Yet, true to my experience, the unexpected harbors forth possibilities...

So the scene developed with my wife saying, "Oh the new diffuser is working, smell the cinnamon"

"Yes, I do; how pleasant"

The subtle alarm in my mind was softly clanging away that the diffuser was downstairs. So if I were reasoning I would think that it must be a super-diffuser to be noticed upstairs in the bedroom, but I gave little notice in my sleepy-head waking of morning routine.

My wife gathered up our dog Oscar into her arms and took him downstairs for his morning business.  I began my daily ritual of making entries into my journal. I heard her voice from downstairs,

   "Oh my"

That got my attention, or I should say the silence after her comment riveted my attention.

Then,

   "What did you do?"

    It was then and there that the pieces of my mental puzzle began to fall into place. I distinctly remember my inner dialog voice saying, "I'll bet Obediah knocked over the diffuser and that's why we can smell cinnamon upstairs." I was right; in the neighborhood sort of way calamity can strike.

   Obediah had, indeed somehow got his 13lb girth into space.  He projected himself six feet out and five feet up from the table that sets at the corner of the couch.  Somehow, he made it onto the fireplace mantel; a feat worthy of mentioning and even applauding. Afterwards, as cats will wander in their victory laps, he knocked over a newly purchased harvest-cinnamon diffuser. Why-oh-why is it always a brand-new-filled-to-the brim container that gets tipped over? What I didn't know, but was soon to find out, was that the fluid flowed over the surface of the mantel and worked as a solvent to blister the paint; very close to the same effect as the alien blood had on the spaceship deck in the movie ALIEN. Not only that, but the culprit walked in the fluid and then, becoming bored with watching the progress of the syrupy substance flow to the opposite end of the mantle, he jumped down and wandered around the house with harvest-cinnamon dyed feet.  Little sticky footprints everywhere as far as the hunting eye would venture.

   Up until this episode my wife was feeling pretty confident that she had adequately prepared our home for a visit by her cousin and his wife. Everything, as she had commented just the night before, was in its place.  Well now....look at the change.

   Wouldn't you know, just as she was surveying the handiwork of Obediah it would be the very moment Oscar was inspired to play with mama? So while she tried to corral Obediah, who by the way was actively evading her attempts to catch him, (thinking, I suppose, punishment was coming) The puppy was either nipping at her heals or enjoining her in chasing down that rascal cat...whose darting about only spread the mess.

   I heard the commotion along with the increased volume of her protest. I was then convinced that I could not survive as a silent spectator. So I wisely went down stairs and joined in the mayhem.

The calamity was contained; the mess cleaned up. The mantle was repainted with plenty of time to dry, as well as rearrange the decorations on the mantel the way they were before our guest arrival.

The pets survived Mama's fury, (albeit BOTH cat's got a bath. Sorry Hershey sometimes prosecution by association is a fact of life... even if unfair)

And I?

........I avoided being blamed for it all. Yes...success makes one glow...does it not?