Journal of a Sabbatical

December 15, 1999

still warm

Merrimack River Feline Rescue Society

Today's Reading: Autumn from the Journals of Henry David Thoreau edited by H.G.O. Blake, From Ponkapog to Pesth by Thomas Bailey Aldrich

The power went off in the wee hours. It was raining, but it didn't seem like that bad a storm. The Personal LaserWriter 320 woke me up at about 4:10 AM by printing a test page when the power came back on. Actually, I'm kind of glad it did because I got to reset the alarm so I'd wake up on time. But morning came around again way too soon. I was groggy even after I stopped at Dunkin Donuts for coffee.

And I consumed all the coffee long before I got to work, so there was none for Chloe. She was in an antisocial mood when I came in anyway, sitting up on the cat credenza with her ears slightly back in that "I'm not mad yet but I could be really easily" position. So I steered clear of petting her. I think partly she was upset that Midgee had taken over the space next to the sink, so she couldn't supervise the dishwashing properly.

Midgee isn't feeling well today. Why that would make the sink feel like a better place than the top of the dryer I haven't a clue. She's so cute I can't understand why she hasn't been adopted yet. She kinda likes Roy so I've been planning to make some subliminal sleep tapes suggesting that Roy's wife would love to let him have a cat. Only trouble is how to sneak them into their house.

For once, the top did not pop off the sink trap and the drain didn't clog up. Good thing too 'cause Giggle Girl - with her plumbing talent - was out today. It's so much nicer when I don't have to mop up gallons upon gallons of soapy bleachy water off the floor.

I kept stepping on humans though. Brit kept getting in my way and I'd step on her toes or bump into her. Baskets of laundry waiting for the dryer extended out the doorway of the laundry room practically to the sink so people going in and out of the laundry room ended up in my line of fire. At least I didn't get anybody with the sprayer this time.

Kendra and Bob were measuring the laundry room and the appliances therein. Somebody donated a second dryer (rejoice, rejoice) and they were trying to figure out how to fit it in there. The laundry room is laid out strangely and there is some amount of wasted space, but I can't imagine another dryer in there. We can barely move among the dirty linens as it is. But Bob's really talented at these spatial relationship type problems, so I'm sure he'll figure it out. It sure would be nice to be able to keep up with the clean stuff coming out of the washer instead of building this huge backlog.

The drizzle was supposed to clear up this afternoon, but when I left the shelter at noon it was still gray and gloomy and drizzling. After a veggie sub at Angelina's, where the video games seem to be multiplying but none of them play the Addams Family theme anymore, I figured I'd try my luck at looking for birds. I found black ducks and Canada geese galore and three snow geese, but not much else.

It was about ten degrees colder and several miles per hour windier on Plum Island than it was in downtown Newburyport, which made the drizzle all that more uncomfortable. Weather like this makes me feel a lot less guilty at spending an hour or so at Olde Port Book Shop. So I went back into town and browsed among the old books for an hour or so. Domino was very talkative today but kept leading me to the hunting section where I couldn't figure out what she was trying to show me. She sat down on the chair next to that section and I knelt on the floor and petted her until she didn't meow when I stopped. I ended up buying From Ponkapog to Pesth by Thomas Bailey Aldrich (from the Americana section) mainly because of the title. It's a 19th century travelogue that treats of neither Ponkapog (in Massachusetts) or Pesth (the Pest half of Budapest) but is a fun read nevertheless.

I needed another cup of coffee to counteract the drizzle and a half pound of it to take home - I was fresh out this morning - so I crossed the street to Fowle's. The French roast I bought was so fresh that the beans were still warm when the girl put them in the grinder! Still warm! And they smelled wonderful. Viva microroasting! You can't get that at Starbucks.