“There’s a song lyric for that,” said Thalia. “Rainy days and Mondays always get me down.”
Calliope rubbed her chin. “Where’d that come from? It is Monday… and it’s raining… and Karen Carpenter’s voice is a delight… I just don’t see the connection?”
“Well — if it’s not the rain… or Monday morning…why do you want to hide under the table with Henny?”
Urania pulled out her earbuds to join the morning coffee convo. “Who’s hiding under the table?”
“Nobody really… not even the fourleg. It took two grain-free blueberry bacon treats to stage the photo — once gobbled — Henny returned to her post at living room window,” said Calliope. “Whose idea was it to write about emotion and feelings?”
Index fingers pointed every which way.
“It’s hard… ,” Calliope whined. “My feelings, your feelings, all the feelings people have hidden in their depths. Sometimes — a lot of the time — people are acting on feelings they don’t even recognize they have?”
“Truer words have never been spoken.” Urania pinched the bridge of her nose. “And writing yesterday’s chapter about annoyed and astonished invited us to share an opinion that might receive scorn. This makes you uncomfortable Cal?”
“Incredibly uncomfortable. Why can’t we be more like Midge?”
“I love Midge!” Thalia lit up like the Northern Lights. “The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel is a hoot! And so confident.”
“She’s a terrible mother.” Calliope’s shoulders slumped.
“Don’t we have a quote somewhere about… ummm… remembering we’re learners, not judges?” Urania raised her brows in Tal’s direction.
“We do… Father Laurence, me thinks.”
“There’s only one cure for wanting to hide under the table… ,”
“What’s that Nia?” Calliope asked.
“Pick yourself up, take a step, keep going… uncomfortable is a good sign.”
You had me at hiding under the table. Will a desk suffice as a proper sanctuary?
27 She said, “Yes, Lord, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters’ table.”
I thought maybe that you were going this way when I first read your post yesterday.