And how many Februarys have come in like a lamb, as this one has? The temperature reached the mid 60s today in Boston. And it wasn't just warm, the sun felt as strong as it does in May. It was a welcome break from winter — and I like winter.
I am in a good mood. It is wonderful to be free of the new condo. I love not having to worry about owning it, selling it, and paying for it. I love not having to carry around its keys, which felt like dead weight in so many ways. I love not having to water the multitude of plants the stager provided. I love not having to clean it before open houses. I love sleeping through the night. I don't even mind getting back on the real-estate horse and trying again. We have to fill out a new mortgage pre-approval application with a different bank tomorrow, and I even like the idea of that.
I'm in such a good mood that I assume something terrible is about to happen. But perhaps it already did, first thing this morning. My husband found it, photographed the evidence, cleaned up the worst of it, and emailed me the photo so I could figure out what to do next.
I could show you the photo but an explanation will suffice: Someone had left a Gift with Purchase* on my keyboard.
I had woken up in a good mood and the news had very little impact on it. Once again, I gave thanks that we can afford to feed our cats high-quality food (gifts are much less smelly and disgusting). Then it occurred to me that I had forgotten to order this month's cat food. Yikes! I counted cans and found that we have 53, enough to tide us over until we can get a delivery, with three to spare. Phew: If you don't have food for your cats, they can't very well provide you with Gifts with Purchase, can they?
I decided to use Q-tips and Nature's Miracle to clean up the keyboard. I studied the photo and went to work on the area between the 3, W, R, S, F, and X keys. Nature's Miracle's "Just for Cats" formula (in a red bottle) has a clean, fresh scent that's infinitely better than the original, which reeked of alcohol and chemicals. The new one smells mild and works perfectly. The keyboard cleaned up so nicely that I decided to do the whole thing.
I could put a list here of other things contributing to my general happiness today, but I prefer to do something else. I'll write about a few of them in the next few weeks. Tonight, I'll probably read a novel. It's lovely to read and not worry about that condo between paragraphs. I plan to go to bed early. And I know I will sleep soundly.
When I was finished cleaning my laptop, I rounded up the usual suspects (only the boys since Wendy never sits on my desk) but no one admitted to the gift. It was probably Toffee since he has the fluffiest, problem-causing fur. He is a marvelously sweet, polite cat, so I asked him to please not sit on my laptop again in that condition.
But it could have been Possum, since he has a flair for the dramatic and I had complained at length last night throughout Downton Abbey because he watching it all cozied up with my husband instead of me. He adores my husband these days and spends what I consider an unhealthy amount of time curled up on or near him. I hope it's because his lap is so much bigger than mine. Or because Possum knows who pays the food bill. But it's probably because Possum can tell that my husband is by far the better person, as I've known all along.
I am suddenly a tad less happy.
*If you're new here, occasionally our cats leave us a "gift with purchase," a euphemism that reminds us of nicer things, like Clinique Bonus Time. Our cats all have fluffy "pants," and things sometimes go wrong if they leave the litter box prematurely. It's purely accidental. A gift is usually little, dry, hard, and not terribly smelly (a benefit of high-quality, high-protein food). A gift usually sits on the floor until we spot it, or more likely, step on it — Persian rugs offer excellent camouflage. Our bare feet seem to have an instinct for finding gifts with purchase.