Over another Hump

Monday, June 27, 2005

Winter Morning

Winter Morning.
I live in the desert uplands of Queensland. Days are generally beautiful but it does get cold at night. I am a chicken, I admit, when it comes to getting up on these frosty winter mornings and pretend I am asleep until my husband gets up. I have this misguided idea that once the air has been circulated by him it will be warmer, something along the same idea that once a newspaper has been read it is no longer crisp. It doesn't work but I do get my coffee made for me.Today was particularly cold and I knew I had my least favourite job to do. I needed to organise the fridge before we went shopping. That meant that it had to be done while my husband was out of the kitchen. He does most of the cooking so I had to get him motivated and up earlier than usual. I arose first.In search of my slippers I made my way across the icy vinyl in stockinged feet. My extremities were already stinging from the frosty air and the floor was as slippery as a skating rink. Mollie, ever an opportunist, tangled her body around my walking sticks and head butted me in the direction of her empty bowl. Beneath soft damp fur her solid body belied the plaintive hunger cries as I opened the fridge door.My hand encountered sticky residue from a late night snack left on the milk carton, garlic chicken obviously, then fumbled for the tray of cat food. Yuck, there it was, the lid had been left off again. The jelly-like substance clung to my hand, chunky and offensive . I took both containers to the sink and wiped them down, relishing the warm water running over my fingers while the cat rubbed my ankles. Her purrs vibrated against my tingling, slightly blue calves as I spooned the sloppy muck into her bowl.When I turned I knocked the milk carton. It flew from the counter and milk splashed over my socks, cold and slightly oily, before spreading over the kitchen floor. A white disaster. The cat seized her moment and began lapping, her rough tongue doing its best to save the precious fluid at my feet. The floor-cloth, damp, rough and gritty, soaked up the residue while my bones creaked in complaint at the early morning work out. I crunched the waxed carton and forced it into the over full trash can then continued my search. The day must improve...


  • This is a beautiful piece, I especially liked your description of the milk splash.

    By Blogger Me, at 5:12 PM  

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