20160603 (shift)

Time for a new direction

Not all that long ago I

Was complaining about 

Someone who had stored

A lot of stuff in my house.

The original ninety days 

Specified in the documents

Growed somewhat like Topsy

In stretch pants or "one size

Fits all." Three and a half 

Years passed before all the 

Offending stuff was gone. 

Now I have in my attic and 

Second floor acres late 19th

Century subfloor where dust 

Bunnies roam like cat-fur-based

Tumbleweed speckled with

Bodies of dead black flies,

And reproducing daily, like

Its eponymous species. Now

I have been combing the cat

Who, to my mind, should be 

Furless after a ten-minute 

Session. But no, each raking 

Of her back yields enough 

To fill a kid’s pillow or a

Moderate size dog toy. I don’t

Feed her the high protein hair-

Building cat food. Perhaps she 

Should be grafted to a friend’s

Receding hairline, but I don’t

Think he’ll cotton to ducking 

His head every couple hours in

Cat sand. Tried mowing the tree

Lawn and discovered the Red

Baron finally ran out of oomph

On the downslope. He’s served

Me well, having been starved of

A new spark plug, air filter for

The last four years. It may be time.

Too many repairs. Bad timing. I

Need to spend those unpredictable

Waking hours hauling my stuff

To the dump. Yeah, all those

Wonderful shelves my FaceBook

Comrades had to watch me build,

Proved insufficient to the need.

Many unsorted items are still

Out in the open (for easy search)

Over the two tables in the dining

Room which I built from an old 

Ping-pong table and some 

Quickly but sturdily crafted props

Of wood that once stiffened shipping

Boxes and were to have been 

Discarded on the spot. Strange how

They ended up in my basement

Becoming frames for screens and

Storms. Hoarders will tell you

Without batting an eyelash, “I 

Was saving that for . . .” and 

They’ll name the intended project.

Just like I do. But really I was 

Going to use all these “building

Materials,” wisely and cleverly

Until I upended the notion of how

I was going to spend the waning 

Days of my (ever in need of 

Polishing) golden years. Depending 

On how quickly and cleverly I

Get this mess off my back, I may 

Miss a day or two. But, since most

Of you aren’t reading this, you

Won’t even notice.

c. J.S.Manista, 2016