This part is CRAP
I'm holed into a half bath, with a litter box, two dishes of food, bowl of water, post-surgery cat, a towel and a electric blanket. All mammals existing here are miserable. One with a literal Elizabethan collar, the other a metaphorical one.
Perched on the closed toilet, in the midst of buying Mary Oliver poems, I see an Amazon reviewer's wild criticism "the read now bonus is CRAP" and I am suddenly, inexplicably heartened. Giddy with company in misery.
Like stumbling through a foggy night, wise enough to know I should fall down with gratitude for all the miracles, the stars and the healthy cat, and all the things that love me despite my miserable internal grousing. And yet barely willing, holding dear to my grumping.
Then on that same foggy path, finding a comrade, both seeking solace in the eternal wisdom of Mary Oliver and also complaining bitterly about the stubbed toes of this simple life.
Hello dear, fellow silly creature. Welcome.