April 8th, 2012

caillebotte_man at his window

Forgetful

Well the draft came through the window I forgot to close Friday evening— the evening I slept sway. I kept wondering why the furnace ran so much and the room still felt cold. So many distractions of spring: hummingbirds and flowers, scents of grass, woodpeckers chattering, the pale new leaves of the oaks, the changeable sky with its passing show of clouds, and then the night with its moon and all the singing frogs. No wonder I forget things such as when I opened a window.

At last I noticed it only because while I was in the room the cat hopped onto the sill and bumped the exposed screen and made it rattle. It's a wonder she didn't pop it out and leap after it as I slept, as she's done that before. Well, tonight the house will be warmer, and the pollen that is apt to arrive with tomorrow's warmth will not get through the open window and fill the house. I ought to give the cat something special as a reward for letting me know, unwitting though warning was. Maybe she'll get some cream tonight, and she'll never know why.

Thank goodness it didn't rain and a wind come up and blow it onto the stack of books under the window. This house is dank enough already.


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