I was walking to my car today when, out of nowhere, a tree jumped in front of me. I, of course, smashed into it and fell backwards.
Looking up at the sky (as I was now laying on my back in the cold, cold weather) I noticed a few birds flitting by. Hoping that they wouldn't shit on my prone body, I gingerly stood up.
And came face to face with Garage Cat.
His name is Nick. He first showed up about three or four years ago around Christmas time (hence the name Nicholas - not my idea, I swear). He's a behemoth of a cat - he weighs over twenty pounds and stands up above my knee. He's not fat. Just huge. And fluffy.
I swear he's got mountain lion in him. He lives in our garage. His digs include a heated blanket, water bowl, a magical refilling food bowl, and all the
So, as I stared into his eyes (which are a peculiar shade of green-yellow, in case you were wondering), I couldn't help but think about him and what he must do during the day. What a life.
He eats. He sleeps. He prowls. His needs seem very basic, very simple.
And so it occurs to me that I might need to simplify my life a bit. I think that I, too often, get caught up in the little things. I forget that life really isn't supposed to be that hard, that really I'm just stressing out over things that are inconsequential in the big scheme of things.
That really, I just need to realize I have the freedom to be me.