the month of me: two choices

7:48:00 am: I walk downstairs with an empty bowl, which moments before held some delicious cereal with strawberry bits and little buttons of some yogurt-like substance. I am followed extremely closely by a large feline asking insistently for more food which, according to him, has not been provided at a rapid enough rate. He is ignoring the fact that moments before he was permitted to clean the bowl of any and all remaining milk. I am ignoring him.

7:48:29 am: I walk into the kitchen and drop the bowl into the sink. The large feline continues to circle me in a manner lot unlike that of a pirhana circling a well-fed tourist with a paper-cut. I continue ignoring him.

7:48:37 am: I grab my travel mug and deposit two spoonfuls of sugar.

7:49:09 am: I spin around to approach the coffee-maker. My left foot is directly in front of my right foot. My body leans forward in the controlled fall that proceeds every footstep taken by humans upon this planet. I move the left foot a mere 1.75 cm towards the coffemaker before my left foot encounters a barrier of fur and hunger.

7:49:09:05 am: At this point I have two choices:

  1. I can allow my foot to proceed along its journey, bringing my body one step closer to the coffee-maker. And kicking a large cat in the process.
  2. I can fall forward and let the chips — and myself — fall where they may.

7:49:09:06 am: I make my choice.

7:49:09:07 am: I proceed to fall forward in the manner of a Douglas fir. That is with great majesty… and perfectly straight. Somewhere, a lumberjack cries out “TIMBER!” in his sleep.

7:49:09:45 am: At 52 degrees from prone, I manage to arrest my fall when my hand finds the handle of the cupboard door to my right. Flop sweat appears on my forehead.

7:49:09:45 am: The Large One asks for more food, blissfully unaware of the sacrifices we make for the ones we love.

7:49:13 am: I pour my coffee and proceed with my day.

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