I was caught in a hailstorm once, back in the days when I had no car. I was on my way to a job interview, ironically. This is when I learned that hail isn't a blunt force trauma, that shit is pointy. I didn't realize that I was bleeding, however, because of course it was pouring rain, until I walked into the office, and suddenly thin little skeins of blood were coming from much of my exposed flesh. They're very teeny cuts, I doubt I lost even a thimbleful of blood, but I sure as hell made an impression during the interview, let me tell you.
James had gone out the door and I was performing the questionable alchemy of morning on my second cup of coffee--more milk? More sugar? More sugar can negate the need for more milk, but is the milk already in there from the first cup enough to counteract the half-cup of fresh coffee poured in? God, the decisions. And people think art is hard.
There came a pounding on the kitchen window.
I looked up groggily and saw James. Had he broken a limb? He was awfully vertical for that. No, he was pointing madly at something. I shuffled to the right and peered out the window in the direction of the pointing. Ah. The car. Is something wrong with the car? Are the tires flat?
A head popped out of the wheelwell. There was a squirrel clinging to the tire to shelter from the hail. The head regarded us with deep suspicion. Awwww.
James waited a minute until a break, went up to the car, flushing the squirrel, and ran the engine for a minute or two to be sure. (James being James, I'm fairly sure that had the squirrel not broke and run, he would still be sitting in the driveway.)
I sat at the computer, slightly too black and slightly too sweet coffee in hand, and contemplated what to art next. The cat settled herself into James's chair--near the working human in case of a sudden need for petting, but far enough away that she can nap without being disturbed.
There's no real point to this entry, I realize, I just felt like avoiding work by cataloguing my morning.
