my brain says:

The cat had been sleeping on my chest again. So I woke up, moved and choked on a cloud of cat hair. My brain said something unpleasant followed by something that sounded an awful lot like "coffee". I could be wrong about that, but that's what I chose to hear.

I didn't want to get out of bed, but since I was awake, and since I had nothing pressing to do today (hooray!) and since it looked to be a lovely day out, I did the usual things to make myself less depraved looking and headed out on the bike path towards the local coffee house (LCH). The 'bike path route' is a bit of a misnomer as only about 100 yards is actually a path before heading through parking lots and sidestreets. Still. The other option is the 'Lakeshore Route', which really is just the name of the street as the actual bit that goes directly along the lake shore is beyond the LCH.

This is how my mind has been working lately. A bit scattered, a bit semantic.

About two and a half blocks before getting to the LCH, I pass by the local public house (LPH). Now pubs are not known for good coffee, but it did have a patio with all the necessary accoutrements: namely tables, chairs and unfurled umbrellas. And a server. I hesitated. Offered up a Good Afternoon to the server.

The blue sky, the white clouds, the pink cherry blossoms, the yellow forsythia, the red and purple tulips, the lime green of the new leaves against the gold of the church dome. And the amber glow of the lager. Altogether a colourful afternoon. Perfect.


Came home to find the cat sleeping on the pillow. Not quite so perfect.