My fingers were frozen to the stirring wheel, and still I was blinded by the powerful shine of the autumn sun reigning gracefully over the clear blue sky. The woods have changed into a more colorful attire, each to its own favorite hue of warm yellow, ocher, rust and almond brown. On days like these it is so easy to be grateful for being alive!
My neighbors had not yet arrived to their workshops, so all the furballs were there to greet me in the hope of finally being fed. I took some milk to my carpenter friend's cats (who runs the workshop next to my studio), to keep them busy while I looked for leftovers to feed them. I finally managed to mix up some food for them, and when I returned, all five of them were waiting with one pot still full of milk, having a corpse of a half chewed, skinless mouse tossed over the brim. Now, you have to understand, I am not an urban princess, convinced of the fact that milk originally comes from a box that grows on supermarket shelves, but I still find it hard to accept that cats are carnivores and they have the habit of leaving their pray lying around for everyone to grab a bite should they have such cravings.
So that was done, but the image kind of stuck to my inner eye, and I thought to myself, I like mice a lot better when they are alive. I came back inside, lit the fire place up, visualizing everything I intended to do today just to get a bit organized, and I turned to change into my work clothes. As I stepped into my right boot, with the sole of my foot I could feel like there was something in there. The quick image of having a mouse in there rushed through my mind, but I smiled diverted of the silly nature of that thought and shook the shoe to reveal whatever toy Mazsola -I figured, because what else could it be- tossed in there over the night? Nothing appeared, so I had put my foot into the boot again, but there was still an obstacle around my toes, so feeling quite annoyed, the very brave Erika had firmly introduced her left hand to take out the damn toy. The very next split second the boot crashed against the wall and a deep, long scream seemed to have filled the room. When the the boot landed on the floor and the scream (which apparently emerged from my lounges so naturally) faded, I stood there staring at the fallen boot... I started laughing. And I laughed, shivered, then laughed some more.
I suppose we really ought to be careful what we wish for, because we might encounter just that! A moment earlier I thought I preferred a living mouse instead of the corpse... perhaps I should have defined that I sure as hell did not cherish the idea of it renting out my boots.