A Different Window. — Personal
I've decided to try to write some blog entries while at home, rather than writing them at work all of the time. Hopefully this will set a slightly different tone to some of my topics, and change is always good (even when it's bad).
I'm having the kind of morning that I fantasize about on the weekdays while on my way to work. I'm out of bed before 9:00AM, coffee is brewing, Adam is still asleep, the cats are bird watching, and I am still in my PJ's sitting on the couch and spending some quiet time with my laptop. The windows are open and there's a slight chill in the morning breeze, but underneath is a humid and lukewarm day patiently waiting to fill the space.
The block that I live on is a quiet one, which is pretty rare in New York City. Every morning with the windows open you can hear a choir of birds outside, some so close you can see which bird is making which sound, some so far that their chirp sounds like an echo. It makes for excellent morning music in an otherwise silent apartment.
Today is going to be a rather lazy day. My feet really hurt after spending the entire day yesterday cleaning the apartment and now all I want to do is stay off of them. Although our hard wood floors are the most beautiful floors I've ever lived with, I greatly miss having carpet. After spending the day walking on hard pavement it's no great comfort to come home to spend the evening walking on hard wood. My feet rarely get to experience the cushion of the earth, the softness of the grass, or even the comfort of carpeting. Every home that I had ever lived in has had carpeting. I miss finding sunspots on the floor and laying on the warm carpet while squinting my eyes to the brightness of the sun. I miss laying on the floor watching television, my chin propped on my hands, my elbows getting rug burn. And at the moment, I miss the cushiony softness of walking on carpeting in the comforts of my own home. For the past three apartments we've lived in they've all had hardwood floors. The first few years of having wood floors were very exciting, the appearance of them just made the apartment look classy and warm. Now I'd gladly give up the appearance of wood floors for a little cushion in my step. My feet feel bruised and walking with bruised feet on hard wood is not the most fun thing I can think to do on a Sunday.
However, one thing I would miss about hard wood floors is the cartoon fashion in which my cats run on them. They start the run about three seconds before their bodies actually go anywhere. And Tsunami hasn't mastered the art of stopping on them. Granted he's still rather a kitten, just turned a year old last month, but somehow I don't think he'll ever get it right. He runs into the room and basically throws his butt to the side and skids into the wall or a piece of furniture. And sometimes when he lays down he catches his reflection in the hard wood floor and starts to chase himself. Or he'll roll on his side and start spinning himself with his legs like he's a propeller on an airplane. He's a rather strange cat. Commodore, on the other hand, is older (he's five) and has pretty much grown out of his crazy-cat-behavior episodes, though he definitely still has his moments. Last night, for example, he was playing with the wall. No, no, that's it, just the wall.
The world is slowly starting to wake up and now my bird choir is specked with neighbor's voices and the occasional car driving past. This means it's almost time to wake up Adam, make cinnamon rolls, and watch cartoons. But before I do all that I'd like to read a little of my book, so it's time to go.