Black Holes

I don't know what is going on here but they've been at it for several days now. The door goes into the garage and no one lives here but the three of us. There was no sound that I could hear.

If you note, just above Kiki's head (the one on the left) there is a dark spot. That's where the baseboard doesn't quite reach the door frame. We had a new door installed years ago, and the trim is narrower than the original door. I'm not changing out a whole baseboard for a quarter of an inch crack. This crack seems to be what is holding their interest. 

A side note here. We've always had a problem with field mice getting in. This crack used to be one of the places they could access. There is a similar crack on the right side of the door. A few years ago, I figured this out, and on the garage side I filled the very large openings with spray foam. And I kept rat poison at each point. We've not had them coming in there since then. So, I don't know what they're seeing, hearing, or smelling. I don't think they do and that's the draw.

They're a great comfort these days when the depression is more than I can handle. There is something calming about a kitten hopping onto your lap and snuggling against you. Usually, I'm feeling exactly the same way but there is not a lap for me or shoulder.

Today, I went Thorton's to get a drink to go with the burger I was having for supper. As I walked out of the store, a thought almost stopped me in my tracks. I don't really know who I am. I went to the car and sat there for several minutes thinking about it. Aloud, I said, "I knew at 17 more about who I was, what I wanted to be, and what I wanted to do than I do now. I'm 63 and I don't have a clue."

No one responded. They never do. I fleetingly wondered if I should see a shrink.

I suppose, this is all tangled up in that skein of grief that unravels every year during the holidays. I don't know. In fact, I don't think I know anything. I came home to the cats peering into a hole.

I have a feeling that I am, too.