Monday

Down in the basement The Kitty is doing his vocal warm ups. He is going to be singing a song about being locked in the basement without anything to eat and no toys and being forced curl up on a chair with only a towel draped over it for padding. It has about 127 verses. He asked to go down there, nay, he demanded that I stop what I was doing, get up, and let him go down there. He knows there is a little used door there and I think he goes down there in hopes that somehow the door will magically have sprung open. The Kitty does not understand about deadbolts.

But The Kitty persists. He believes that eventually he is going to go down there and the door will be open and he will be able to go outside and... there isn’t any grass for lolling around in, the dirt is hard packed and I can’t see him as being someone who wants to wade through piles of leaves. I do know however, that if he was given to opportunity to go out there, he would head right for the largest source of gluten. He would make a glutton of himself on the gluten. A gluten glutton.

The Kitty is always looking for an opportunity. He can sense an unlocked/unlatched door no matter where in the house he is or how fast asleep . If there is a door open he will find it. I have been very mean to him and his spidey senses. I took advantage of the nice weather and opened of the windows and took advantage of all the screen doors. It’s making The Kitty crazy. He is sensing all these opportunities and when he goes to take advantage? He still can’t get out. It’s so close and yet so far. You can feel his sadness. He’s doing everything to get out, sniffing under the doors, standing on his hind legs and pushing , hiding near but not too near the door laying in wait for me to unthinkingly go out the door while he disguises himself as my pant leg and escapes to freedom and the glorious piles gluten that awaits him in the Promised Yard.

I don’t think he would have liked it outside this weekend anyway. It’s been very windy. I didn’t realize how windy until I went to the store and I actually had to drive the car. I mean, there is driving and there is driving. I had to work to keep the car in my lane. Minnie is not a small car and girl friend is hefty, she is not easy to push around and we were being pushed around.

I went out because I got a wild hair and decided I wanted stir fry for dinner and so I went online and found a recipe and shockingly, didn’t have most of the ingredients but since most of the ingredients were foods I don’t eat anyway, it wasn’t a big deal. I had the main ingredients but the recipe called for ginger and I didn’t have any and while the mushrooms and onions were skippable, I decided the ginger was not.

So I went to Poverty Barn.

Don’t laugh. Poverty Barn is full of food items you wouldn’t expect to find. It’s a culinary treasure hunt in the food section. The Polish ramon noodles are right across the aisle from the Israeli fruit punch. And on the next aisle are Peruvian egg noodles. But sadly no ground ginger of any nationality. I ended up with a bag of French stir fry sauce, two family sized boxes of all-American Kraft Mac and Cheese and two cans of Australian canned crab. $8.13 isn’t bad for at least six meals.