Dribs And Drabs

That zone of cool air by the kitchen window with the blinds down, the window panel open just a bit to prevent condensation from running down the glass and ruining the window sill. It’s a pleasant sensation, a reminder of the cold outside, the warmth inside. Warmth of the cat on my lap. The whump sound in the overhead vent above the stove whenever I heat a pot of water, the heat causing molecular expansion. It always startles me at first. I never expect it, even though I’ve heard it numerous times. The steam rising from the hot water I poured into the frying pan to loosen the carbonized matter on the sides from tonight’s dinner of chicken and stuffing. The steam rises into the air of the kitchen like an ephemeral guest. It disappears so quickly. It’s not even a guest. It’s not even a ghost. It’s just steam. My metaphors unravel. They don’t stick. I like the way the water fans out from the spoon when I rinse it. I get out of bed to go to the bathroom and wonder why Athena (our cat) is sitting on the floor staring at the wall. Then I realize it’s the night splint I’ve been using for Achilles tendinopathy. Perceptions are often unreliable. Which is why I really like the quote from yesterday’s episode of the Finnish crime drama on Netflix Bordertown: presumption prevents us from seeing the actuality of things. Amazement at the crow who – when I tossed a peanut his way – caught it in his beak. The sudden urge to sing Christmas carols while having a bowel movement. The difficulty of removing the twine left on the hook that attaches to the chain that attaches to the little cage in which R puts a cube of suet for the small birds to feed on. I poked at it with the sharp blade of a box cutter and it finally came off. Animals – squirrels or rats or racoons – gnaw through the twine until the little cage falls to the ground and they can work the little cage door open and run off with the suet. We have a harder time finding a good low branch to hang the cage from since the tree was trimmed last summer. Ideally, the branch should be low enough to reach without a ladder, or risking a nasty fall into the rockery below, but high enough so that the birds don’t feel threatened. I read that the Psyche asteroid, which is roughly the same length as Massachusetts, is mostly made of iron and nickel, and that it’s worth is estimated to be about $10,000 quadrillion. The three-way bulb in the bedroom lamp burned out, and since the overhead light provides inadequate light for reading, even with the lamp with its two bulbs to the right side of the bed by the Sangean Bluetooth radio, I put on a headlamp for reading, which is comprised of a flexible headband and a little white light. Every time I glance at my image in the closet mirror across the room from the end of the bed, it looks like a man (my face is obscured by the light) wearing a crown with a magical jewel.