Sunday Morning Coming Down

Linda Burton posting from Olympia, Washington – The joke is “summer doesn’t arrive in the Pacific Northwest until after the 4th of July” but it’s no joke. In 1987 I dried out in front of a blazing fire after giving up on the soggy Seattle fireworks display and coming home sopping wet and shivering. It looks as though this year will follow that pattern; it was raining when I woke up; a Sunday morning gray. A cat snuggled tight against either side of me; I guess I’m forgiven for taking off for Hawaii and leaving them behind. I opened up the Fancy Feast and then slept two hours more. Under the blanket and the pile of cats it was cozy and warm, but checkout time loomed close; time to load the car, drive to Olympia, unload everything, settle in for the next two-week stint. I was misty-soaked and feeling blue in all the gray, my body temp still set on Hawaiian warm. Just drive, I told myself.

It’s a mess, I-5 I mean; and the speed limit is 60 all the way; what’s that about? The Girl Scout motto learned so many years ago forgot, I put no water for the kitties in the back; didn’t fill the litter box; it was a short drive to Olympia. And so you see, I was not prepared for the rooms reserved weeks ago to be refused to me. A chain I often used, this one did not accept cats; my “Pet Friendly” filter somehow slipped. (Big expose some day, about the inconsistencies of chains, and the unkindnesses to pets!) They refused me gently though, and called to find a room for me. A downtown highrise, not my favorite choice, but decision-making time was running short (no water, and no litter box).

My reaction was muted by the gray; okay, I’ll take the room. It wasn’t ready yet, please sort it out, I begged. Housekeeper beeped another floor, got somebody on it, quick. “Start your unload,” she soothed, “and bring those kitties in.” She described her long-haired cat, her love of 15 years, “I want to meet your Jack,” she smiled, “and Alex too.” I warmed from blue to pink. Four loads with the rattley cart; four floors on the elevator; and then, we’re home and all is well. Let’s watch the evening news, and catch up with the rest of the world.

It’s pleasant here. No doubt that things would turn out fine; I’ve got the Bubble over me. Dig through the suitcase for warmer clothes, zip the black sweater clear up to my neck, pull on some socks. It was 109 in Nashville today, the Brian Williams Sunday-substitute is telling on the news, and power’s out all in the stormy east. But I am safe, here at the end of Puget Sound, looking forward to the peace, and quiet, and gentle soothing gray; an easy place to be.