The Dunkin Donuts man is my soulmate

Tonight, because I am a blogging foo-foo-fooool I'm trying something new. I'm trying Mama Kat's workshop, and I chose this prompt:

Why did you do it?

There are many, many reasons why I did it. I did it because I was bitter about the hospital gown with the warm air hose. Because even though I'd pointed out the similarities between Chuck's spinal anesthesia and my 27 epidurals to the nurses and doctors at the hospital, no one took the bait and let me tell my southern pain stories. Because tonight, after I'd done the dishes, churned the butter and knit four sweaters, Chuck said he only wanted one grilled cheese; after he ate it he said, "I sure could use another..." even though I'd offered to make two in the first place.

And mostly because life feels like this right now (without the thrilling sense of purpose that swoops in at the end):



So, like my father did with my cat when I was 11—the one who had an affinity for peeing on the couch—I took Chuck for a drive to a neighboring town and let him out at the corner. If Chuck somehow makes his way back, like poor Courage* did, I'll set out a plate of grilled cheeses for him.

* The cat was named Courage by my dad's at-the-time girlfriend, who volunteered at the animal shelter in town. She dubbed him that because she found him living at the town dump and when she called, "Here, kitty, kitty" he leaped across three oil drums, or something Evel Knievel-ish like that. The cat did find its way back to our neighborhood after the goodbye drive, but he decided he liked our neighbor, Gail, better. To this day, Gail still talks about her precious kitty. So you see, good things can happen to animals and/or people who are dropped off on random street corners. Trust me.