Saved by the cat
14 May, 2006 - 12:23
Cat wakes me up at 5:01 am with a gentle slap to the head and a cute and ever so petite meow. Scratch that. There was nothing cute about it. It's a repeat violation that we've learned to live with. This is what happens when you rescue a cat from certain misery and starvation and bring it in to your loving home. Cats, I've learned, are quite selfish. Unfortunately this is one of their redeeming qualities. You feel so privileged when they pay attention to you that you have no choice but to relent and feed them for another day.
I get up and let the cat out. As I close the door I see three flashes of light. At first I think maybe the ordained hour has arrived and begin walking outside to make my peace with the Mother Ship. Then I realize there is no hovering disc overhead and the subtle change in magnetic force that I detected was from an approaching storm, not from my alien friends and their wonderful flying machines. So goes my brain activity at this early hour.
My next reaction is OH HELL. OH HELL as in OH HELL why did I leave all those sacks of concrete in the back of the truck and why didn't I put the tiller up yesterday. OH HELL as in where there's lightning there's rain, where there's rain there's water, where there's water and concrete there are that many more useless sack shaped blobs of rock in the morning. So now it's five in the morning, the cat is outside, the dogs are at the door, and I am in the car driving to the farm.
By this time my mind and body have somewhat realigned themselves. I have three principal tasks: move both trucks into the barn, bring my precious seedless watermelon plants inside, and rescue the tiller from its indefensible position in the garden. I begin with the trucks and am quickly able to translocate them to appropriate shelter. I then move the watermelon seedlings from their position outside the greenhouse to a more protected one inside the greenhouse. Seedless seeds are not cheap. They demand proper care. And lastly I begin the tiller rescue op. At first I decide to leave it where it is and cover it with a tarp, but when I walk out to the garden, tarp in hand, I see that it is on the barn side of the garden. The garden is somewhat uphill of the barn so with the tiller in neutral it is easy to just roll it down to the barn. 5:30 in the morning, thunder in the air, wind kicking up, and me skipping a lark with a tiller down the gentle slope. This is my life.
With my early morning mission accomplished I am able to return to my house. I slump into bed and lie there listening as the storm approaches. The lightning flashes, the sky booms, our stick frame house rattles, and not one drop of rain falls anywhere near Morris County.
Okay, so I lied. It rained like HELL and my concrete was saved. The End.