The spring weather has been glorious. It's always been intriguing to me that in October and November, when the temperature gets to 40 or 38, we haul out the winter jackets, the mittens and search for that scarf we know we had last year.
Yet put the same temperatures in March and I'm dragging my recycling and garbage to the curb sans coat, hat or gloves. It truly is a question of perception.
I came home on Wednesday in 40 degree weather and dropped my coat on the table in the living room. It was claimed.
There is a legend about St. Francis which I have always used to justify why some things aren't put away. The story goes that St. Francis, an animal lover, cut the sleeve off his favorite robe rather than disturb a sleeping cat. I had spilled soda down the front of that jacket coming home from Iowa so it had been washed on Tuesday and hung up in the bathroom to dry. If you have cats, you know they will lie on anything and clean clothes are at the top of their short list.
At some point, I would like to hang it up. I'm hoping that will come this weekend. Every time I go into the living room intending to hang up the coat, there's a cat on it. St. Francis was correct. We do not disturb the contented cat.
Beverage: China Black tea