Let that crazy stuff swirl and tumble

Yesterday, I almost felt like I was going to take an extended hiatus from the blog. But then, in the evening, I posted a big bird in a tree. This morning, I still had blog doubts. But here I am. There’s no way I’m going to wade into tempestuous political waters, tempting as that might be. I’m just going to let that crazy stuff swirl and tumble without my published commentary. The only relevant realities are Here and Now, after all. And we are sitting cozily Here doing our mellow morning hangout Now. Coffee is excellently brutal. Fleur sits on her mom’s lap, Griffey’s already napping on the bed, and Betty is cruising around finishing the Tinycats’ breakfasts for them and grabbing an occasional toss of the stringtoy from me.

Monday night I was up late on the computer with earbuds in and suddenly the cats were all looking at the front door. I took out the buds and realized there was somebody on the porch. I opened the door and it was a young women with her stuff, apparently getting ready to camp. I told her she had to leave. She seemed dazed and asked if I had any socks because she didn’t have any—mind you it was close to freezing out there. I told her to wait and got a pair of my socks for her. Then she asked if I had any food. I got her a couple pieces of the leftover Track Town pizza we’d ordered for dinner. Then I told her I’d changed my mind because it was so cold—she could stay there overnight but had to leave in the morning.

Next morning she was there (I heard a cough), sleeping under a big tarp that covered both her and all her stuff. We did our morning things. Mrs. Random went shopping. I changed the cat litter boxes (“mog bogs”). Our stranger slept though until noon. Then I observed her through the window, getting up, arranging her things on the porch, in neat stacks on our porch furniture. Then after a bit she took off, backpack on, toward the east. I opened the door and called after her, “Aren’t you going to take your stuff?!” She either didn’t hear me or ignored me, and kept on walking. That was yesterday around 12:30. This morning her stuff is still out there, and she hasn’t returned. Nice people though we are, we really don’t want a stranger camping on our porch. And we don’t want somebody’s belongings abandoned there. I think I might go buy a box of big heavy duty trash bags and bag up her things—keeping them for a while in case she returns. But part of me feels like she’s moved on. Impossible to know at this point!