My Days

Until school starts, this endless waiting is compressing my spirit. In the mornings I wake up around 7:00, when the light is full in the room where I live and the blinds glow luminous white. I open my eyes, look at the clock, cover my head and sleep until 9:30.

When I do finally rise, it is to the shower I wander. As I shower, Brooks waits at the door, occasionally striking out at a water droplet and never reaching her goal. Then I get dressed, and Brooks will choose an article of clothing as her nemesis and wrestle me for it. Then eat breakfast, and Brooks, having been fed at 6:00, moans at the lack of food in her bowl. And then I clean the entire house. Entire house, every morning. It is spotless. Ridiculously, impeccably spotless. Everything is in it's place. Everything has a place, which is strange enough for me.

I then spend about an hour playing with Brooks until she is tired of me. Even in her boredom, she is usually no more than four feet from me at any time. Don't get me wrong, there isn't that much space in this place, but there is enough that she could get farther away if she choose.

Then I head out for the day's tasks. Whatever they may be. I have explored Santa Barbara. A lot. I a pretty confident that I know where the campuses are, where the meeting hall is, the bank, the grocery store, the drug store, the mission, the park, the restaurants and the shops. This usually takes about two hours. Then I find my way back to Jeannine's, a little bakery and cafe that SPF and I found that has become my second home. They don't recognize me yet, but give them time. The food is beyond compare, the service glowing, and the clientele somehow quiet and respectful. Today I had a goat cheese salad with spinach, tomatoes, and cucumbers. It took a long time to prepare, which I was starting to worry about, until it arrived and the goat cheese was breaded and had been recently baked. Very recently. It was heaven. I hope that I can have it again tomorrow. Mostly, though, it is nice just to have a place that feels somehow familiar. Which it does, even if only after two days.

After that I meander back to the studio, ponder bothering SPF at work, and have a conversation with Brooks. It goes something like this:

B - Meow!
A - Hello to you, too.
B - Meow.
A - Sorry, but you'll have to get used to it. I'm going to be gone during the days.
B - Meowwww!!!
A - I already told you, one meal in the morning, one at night. You have gotten chunky.
B - Mmm.
A - I'm sorry, it's true. I am doing this for your own good.
B - MEOOOOWWWWW!!!
A - Fine!!! Just a little snack.

At which point I feed her a tiny portion of food as a snack. She repays me by sitting on my lap while I read or surf the net or blog.

Plus there is a new development. Whenever anyone walks by the door she growls. Yes, growls. I have never heard a cat do this, but my dog used to when I was in high school. A low, guttural warning of a growl. It is a quiet growl, but convincing. She is my guard kitty.

At this point I will either go out for fast food or open a can of soup. Then we sit around for another hour reading or surfing the net or blogging. After that, she cries again to let me know that it is her turn, I feed her the real dinner and I eventually break down and go by a movie at the drug store that I can watch that night. There are really only two criteria. 1. It must be purported to be good and 2. It must be widescreen. I have actually passed up owning films such as Air Force One and The Highlander because they are full screen. Hard to watch. Yuck.

I now own three new DVDs. Sigh. I need school to start.