Maxwell the Cat and Shelter in Place

Maxwell surfing the net

I overheard the she-human tell the he-human the shelter in place was a good time to make some positive lifestyle changes; clean closets, do some organizing and change their diet.

After watching the evening news, she hid the bathroom tissue. I can no longer hang glide off the tissue spindle and streak through the house with bathroom tissue. Thank goodness she forgot about the paper towel dispenser in the kitchen. My ability to adapt will surprise her.

I didn’t have to wait long for her next project. I heard her tell the he-human it was time to reduce her collection of shampoos and keep the best one. Her first experiment left her looking like a reject from the Westminster Dog show. The he-human muttered something unintelligible as he hauled the mountain of spurned shampoos to the recycle bin.

When the she-human began discarding items from the kitchen pantry, I watched to make sure she didn’t throw out my treats. I’ll admit I have refused quite a few as they are not quite up to my exceptional standards, but if things get tight, I might be happy to have them.

The refrigerator was next on her list of a re-do. I overheard her tell the he-human her inner Julia Child kicked in. She sounded giddy as she rattled off a litany of new uses for some of the forgotten items. The he-human demonstrated great restraint as he tossed the olive and cocktail onion omelet down the disposer. His displeasure halted the refrigerator reorganization.

I am relieved that the she-human abandoned her lifestyle change and has settled down. She and I eat popcorn and watch old movies. Her expanding girth provides a nice place for my nap. The he-human, no longer suffering from mystery omelets, keeps all my motorized toys in tip-top shape.

Both humans are getting lots of exercise. Whenever the strange orange beast appears on television, they race to turn it off.

Maxwell the Cat Discovers White House Updates

The humans in my house are staying indoors.

I am irked; this limits the time I pole vault from the kitchen cabinets onto the dining table. Even worse, I am unable to perfect my system for body-slamming the cabinet where they store my treats.  I am afraid I will lose my ability to shred bathroom tissue as a surprise for them.

Maxwell surfing the net

Watching the birds and squirrels from the patio window is boring. If you’ve seen one squirrel, you’ve seen them all. That’s what I believed until the humans turned on the television.

I have concluded the orange creature I wrote about previously must be some sort of squirrel. Although he has the marks of a raccoon with white moons around his eyes, he behaves more like a squirrel.

The orange squirrel stands in front of a human with white hair who never smiles, but his head bobs up and down vigorously when the orange squirrel speaks. I hope he finds a cure for his malady soon. Constant head bobbing must be very painful.

The humans do not like it when the orange squirrel appears on television. One of them shouted at the orange squirrel about an action he ought to inflict upon himself,  and screamed for Alexa to turn off the television.

I will surf the net to see if I can find a definition for this action.

Are You a Ragweed or a Magnolia?

Mary Margaret

A southern woman who voted for Trump is the antithesis of a steel magnolia. I call ’em ragweeds; they turn everything positive into abject misery.

The spineless ragweed is the closet Trump voter – a woman who claims she voted for the lesser of two evils. She’s too lazy to do her own thinking and follows her spouse’s views. These women are relics of the Phyllis Schlafly era with her seventy’s era anti-feminist crusade.

The uppity ragweed is the rich white woman of a certain age who was a cheerleader in high school, dated the captain of the football team and attended an exclusive all-girls college. They belong to the country club and their husband is a big deal in the rotary club. She clutches her pearls at Trump’s gaffes but “likes what he is doing for the country.” The very mention of the word socialism gives her the vapors, but she turns a blind eye to totalitarian and authoritarian agendas.

The stupid ragweed votes against her own interest. These are the groupies who line up outside arenas waiting for a Trump rally. Sporting racially insensitive tee shirts accessorized with a flag embellished scarf and a maga ball cap they look like rejects from people of Walmart. Lord love a duck; they do nothing to dispel the perception that southern women have three teeth and a third-grade education.

Southerners consider the ragweed a curse. Seems to me the choice is clear; why would anyone want to be a ragweed when they could be a magnolia?

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