If we were having coffee, we’d be lounging on my couch watching rain dribble down the large windows of my living room. My hands would be cupped around my favorite mug covered in Shakespearean insult typography and yours would hold a mug shaped like a large, round penguin. (I hope you like penguins.) Our chat would be a quick one–I have to head to work soon.
After exchanging pleasantries, I would probably spend a great deal of time complaining about the heat. If you live the tropics or desert, you’d scoff and roll your eyes. It’s perfectly justified–eighty-five degrees and humidity, no big deal. But, you see, it’s September. September means sweatshirt-and-shorts weather–the best kind. I don’t think it follows the rules of fashion, but there are few things more satisfying than wearing a sweatshirt and shorts. Is this a Minnesota thing? Or do people where you live do this too? Anyways, as much as I love summer, I am ready for the weather to cooperate with the season. The time for heat is past.
If we were having coffee, I’d tell you that my younger brother, Sam, went back to college. In typical little brother fashion, he’s really annoying and drives me crazy most of the time. I would tell you about the weird/creepy things he does, but am reluctant to post such things on the internet for the sake of privacy. So, if we ever meet in person, you’ll just have to ask. I’m going to miss having Sam around. This summer has been the most time I’ve spent with him in four years, since I started college. We worked together every day and now I’m the only child in the house. Who am I going to fight with now?
If we were having coffee, you would hear all about the kittens we found this week. When you live on a farm you usually have barn cats. Our resident mama cat, BooBoo, is pushing fourteen years and has stopped having babies, which means childbearing duties have fallen to our other female cat. She’s had multiple names over the years, but we’ve finally settled on Gollum Kitty due to a cough that persisted most of the summer.
To say it nicely, Gollum Kitty isn’t the most intelligent feline out there. She’s also quite small, despite being two years old. When I heard little mews coming from the bushes by my house, I was shocked to find not a kitten or two (which is usual for Gollum Kitty), but SEVEN. They’re only a couple of weeks old, but their eyes are open and are just starting to explore. Five of them are white with different colored spots, one is sandy with white feet, and one is all black.
When I visit the kittens, I feel like a little kid again. All I want to do is pet them. Last night, during the groggy moments between sleeping and waking, the kittens were always on my mind. I woke up this morning to a thunderstorm and my first thoughts were devoted to their safety. (It turns out, my dad got up early and moved them from the bushes to one of our cat houses. So they’re safe.) It’s only been a day and my parents are sick of hearing me gush about how much I love the little fur balls. They’ve charged me with taming them–a task I’m a little too excited about.
I just glanced at the clock and it’s time to head to work. But before I go–what would you share if we were having coffee?
This post is part of the Weekend Coffee Share link-up at Part Time Monster