Original – A Typical Day

It was just another typical day. Two bars of soap cooing softly outside my window woke me up this morning. I watched them hopping through the birch tree lazily, until they flew away. I sighed quietly. I would have to get up now. After all, today was the big day.

Half an hour later, I roused myself again and finally got out of bed. The blanket that had curled up at the foot of my bed the previous night rubbed against my legs happily as I passed it. I smiled and scratched it gently before heading for the bathroom.

I almost had a heart attack when I saw the large electrical plug hanging from the cord that it had spun in the corner of my bathroom. I HATE when they get in there, but I suppose that’s the price I pay for leaving the window to the back porch open all the time. A bath towel purred softly up at me from the floor and I petted it absently. If it didn’t belong in the bathroom, I might be annoyed that it seemed to be in there every time I was. It almost seemed like I had a terrycloth spy in there, waiting for me.

Finishing in the bathroom, I headed for the kitchen to grab a bite to eat. Another bar of soap was outside that window, cooing it’s mournful song to anyone who would listen. Unfortunately for it, the only thing that seemed to be listening was the kitchen towel as it sat on the windowsill, a corner hanging down and flipping from side to side madly. I laughed. That towel would never catch a bar of soap… And if it did, it probably wouldn’t know what to do with it. I told it as much, but as it never was a very smart towel, it ignored me in favor of watching the soap hopping around.

Grabbing a slice of bread, (not exactly a balanced breakfast, I know), I headed out the front door to smoke. There were two small pieces of wood, one black, one brown, hopping through my front lawn, and I stopped to watch them for awhile. They didn’t seem too concerned by my presence, and went on chasing each other around a large bush, while a Kleenex tittered angrily at them from it’s perch atop the bush.

A shadow passed over my house as I exhaled yet another breath, and I looked up. It was always exciting in spring when the buckets came back from wherever they went in the south. Of course, it made me a bit worried for the wood in my lawn. Buckets, after all, are quite predatory. But either it didn’t see them, or it was already full of something else, because it circled for awhile, and then simply left.

I smiled, putting out my cigarette, then headed around the side of the house to the garage. The old white Honda whinnied softly at me as I approached it, patting it’s hood affectionately. The old girl still had a lot of life in her, especially since the great job the mechanic had done at her last checkup. I doubted there was a piece of her engine left that was original equipment, but that didn’t make me love her any less. After all, we have a policy in this family. We get our cars brand new and stay faithful to them until they putter off to the side of the road. When that happens, there’s really only one humane thing you can do. Hopefully, though, it would be a long time before our little Honda meets that fate.

I checked the car’s oil, scratching behind her only remaining side-view mirror as I did. She whickered appreciatively and I smiled. She didn’t need anything else today, and her engine was in top shape. I gently closed her hood and grinned at her. We weren’t going anywhere today, and she seemed to notice it. She shook herself slightly, then settled down in her parking place to sleep. I patted her hood again, then quietly reentered the house through the back porch.

I almost tripped over a large black towel that had a tendency to be outside all the time. I attempted to glare at it, but it started rubbing on my legs and I lost any anger I’d had. That towel may have been big, but it was the sweetest towel in the house. Unlike the orange one in the kitchen who rarely allowed itself to be picked up, and when it DID, it had a tendency to scratch you with it’s tag the moment it was through being held.

Clearing my head, I headed back for my bedroom to sit down at the computer. Yet another black towel, this one with a few bleached spots of white, laid down next to me and flipped it’s corner onto my keyboard. I brushed it away, but it came right back. There was no reasoning with this particular towel, you see. When it wanted attention, it wanted attention. I petted it until it settled down slightly OUT of my way, then I reached out with one hand and caught my mouse as it tried to leap off the desk yet again. You’d think it’d stop trying after it’s cord stopped it once or twice, but no. I kept coming into my room to find it dangling off the desk, squeaking pathetically at me. I would normally get it a shorter cord, but I have a tendency to type with my keyboard in my lap, so the mouse needs to be within easy reach. I suppose I could sit a paperweight on it’s cord, but that seems almost cruel. No, even as I think about it, I know I’m just going to leave it the way it is and keep picking it up every time I come into the room. Some things you just learn to live with, you know?

I turned on my computer, caught my mouse again, and waited for it to boot up. The towel on my desk flipped it’s corner at me again, but I informed it in no uncertain terms that it would have to wait until I was finished. I had a writer’s club meeting that afternoon, and I had to meet my sister’s challenge. How I would write a story with no animals at all in it, I had no idea.

Smiling, I petted the towel again, and settled down to type.

It was just another typical day…