You try the high road,
but you struggle with the reach.
So you slip into the low road,
but suffer in the stench.
So you look for the middle,
striving to be comfortable and well,
but every time you read the news,
you feel like we’re on the road to hell.
If you have a cat, does it ever come up to you and give you a casual sniff, and then suddenly becomes alert, avidly and intently sniffing you for a minute before drawing back and giving you a look that asks, “What have you been doing?”
Yeah, disconcerting, innit?
Ever get out there walking and feel the air and a sharp wind, and, giving anxious glances toward the sky, think, oh, no, I’m not dressed right? But then the sun clears its throat and heat finds you. Songs start streaming in your mind, powering you into a faster pace. Busy people and singing birds fill the background, and the air acquires a sweet freshness, and you think, this right here, right now, this is a good day.
Floofculate (catfinition) – a tendency of cat fur to aggregate or come together in lumps or loose clusters.
In use: “During the week, the cat’s fur floofculates into little replicas of the cats hiding under furniture and appliances.”
A good one out of the eighties, a reflection that, no matter what happens or who you appear to be, you have a core of who you are. In this case, Sting is the “King of Pain”, part of the new wave rock movement. I don’t know why, but this was the song streaming in me this morning as my cat curled up on my pillow and purred against my head.