Tuesday, November 24, 2009

Door locked, Lights Out

It's a little after 11pm and everyone in the house (except for me) has cashed in for the night. TeenTuna, now school-free until Monday has been in bed for awhile, probably thumbing through her iPod. Music and bedtime is always a ritual in this house in one form or another.  Mila, the dark grey cat has decided to take up residence on her bed for the evening.  It's hard to know how long it will last, but with the special fleece blanket on the bed, last time I checked she looked pretty content in that regal Egyptian paint me a mural kind of way.

Gabby, the other cat, has decided to start the evening on my bed off to the side.  My bed is more than a little cluttered with clothes at the moment (a definite downside to working two jobs), but there are two possible sleeping locations for the cats each night.  One is at my feet and the other is at my side.  It had been a long standing habit that Mila would be at the foot of the bed and Gabby off to the side, until one night Gabby got there first and when Mila finally jumped on the bed, she displayed this amazing look of surprise and devastation that someone took HER SPACE.  It's at times like these that one will probably become a bit aggressive, and we'll enter a good twenty minute full-house version of Kitty Big-Time Wrestling. 

Aside from the fact that I'm still awake and working, I rather like this time of evening.  The house is entirely still, save for the clicking of the computer keys and the ticking of the living room clock.  There is no TV or radio playing.  It's peaceful and quiet, and I find that after a particularly crammed day, those two things are what I crave most.  The house is comfy and cozy and warm and safe and content.  In other words, it's snug.  Not in a "my jeans don't quite fit" kind of way, nor in a "bugs and rugs" kind of way.  It's finding comfort in the knowledge that your family (human and furry) is nearby, wrapped in blankets and enfolded into the deep blue night.  It's recognizing that although you don't have everything you want, you have everything you need, and just knowing that fact makes you smile willingly, not sigh wistfully. It's getting up to turn off that last light and as you do, knowing that once again, that everyone is safe and sound.  At least for this night.

It might sound insignificant, but believe me, it's not.  I'm grateful for every last bit of it.  Even the cats.  Even the clutter.  Even the teenager and my family near and far.  Even for this little corner of the Internet I call home.  All of these things are gifts, and I rather like it here.  It's snug.

Now it's my turn for bed.

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