white noise

There is this bird … I don’t know what it’s called or even what it looks like, but every once in a while I hear the cry of a newborn kitten mewling outside the window. It’s disturbing in that it whacks my Save-the-Animals! button soundly, leaving me with the overwhelming compulsion to drop what I’m doing and run out to rescue that poor, dear kitten. It takes a few seconds for the call to register as a bird.

It’s not like other birds, though. It doesn’t clamor all morning as predictably as does the blue jay with its incessant (and I do mean non-stop) squawking from the crack of dawn to the end of time. Nor does it vanish at the warmest part of the day. I’ve heard the distressed-kitten-call at noon and at dusk; it’s not predictable at all. But, I suppose as long as it doesn’t start sounding like a fire alarm, I’ll be okay. :)

Today, I am gutting more of the house — namely my keepsake trunk which, alas, has suffered water damage and is in desperate need of replacement. Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to find a similar style trunk. I bought a real scrap book, but for one who loves paper art, I stare at those blank pages and all my keepsake paraphernalia — cards, letters, and photographs — and find I’m intimidated. Sheesh, what a wuss. Brought down by a ruthless, cunning blank scrap book. What next?