My cat, Hawthorne, loves himself. He’s 100% typical feline. If you’ve ever had a kitty, you know what I’m talking about. The felines fall smack into the narcissistic profile.
But we humans are giving them a run for the title.
A short time ago, I posted a story about a person who snapchatted a non-permissioned photo to her social media following. Here’s the link: Snapchat… Scroll down to find the story or I invite you to read the whole post.
The gal has since been criminally charged, reason.com has the whole story. Certainly not the pretty picture the model conjures up for herself.
Karma has an interesting way of dishing out delicacies. Not always a treat. But I digress.
Like my Hawthorne, I’m focusing more on indoor time, chasing the sun’s warmth and dodging its shifting shadow.
To compensate my missed garden time, my fingers play in potted dirt on the kitchen shelf. Often the weak yard plants hang out there along with established beauties.
The Tuesday before Thanksgiving, I purchased one preplanted bulb, nearly in bloom, adding it to the ledge.
It was an impulse buy, which I’m a sucker for, especially green ones with some lovely benefits. Anyway, since my daughter was stopping by with the grandkiblets, I thought they might get a kick out of seeing the hydroponic roots and the tall, slender white flowers.
Last time they visited, they thoroughly enjoyed bouncing around the giant sunflowers, sampling the sweet herbs, and marching on the rock decor.
As if on cue, Friday, the morning they were due to arrive, the pale paper flowers opened. And oh, my I forgot how one scented narcissus bulb could fill a house!
Hubs waltzed into the kitchen, happy the coffee was ready, but stopped, nose raised in the air. “I believe one of the cats must have had an accident. We better locate it quickly, it’s not suited for company.”
I joined him, searching for something, anything that indicated one of our kitties gifted us outside their litter pans.
After a couple minutes, hubs paused in front of the plant shelf, and pointed. “That’s it! Ohmygod, how did you find a flower that smells like cat logs?”
If I could have answered, I would have, but I was doubled over, laughing so hard I thought I might burst!
Two hours later, we welcomed our family. The kids touched the bulb’s green stalks, admired the tiny blooms, and particularly liked the spaghetti roots, commenting on how they wiggled like white worms in the water.
Then my daughter chimed in, “Remember the time we saw these in the grocery store, when I must have been only 7 or 8 years old?”
I nodded, the simultaneous giggle ignited. I composed myself, placing the glass vase back in its sunny spot, “You said you smelled a narcissist!”
It is my hope, dear friends, that the only narcissist you encounter this holiday season will be deeply rooted and pleasantly scented.
Anything come to your mind from holidays past? Do tell, there’s only you and I here…