A Wavelength Short

A Wavelength Short

I’ve introduced Malachi Maxwell on the blog, and he’s been a regular guest star with some of his antics. If you want a refresher or are new to this feline family member of mine, check out Licking Lightbulbs. It gives a great recap.

And yes, he did take a spell of licking lightbulbs. We’ve no idea…

His newest trick was to remove a register cover in the living room floor. I went batty, running to and fro around the house looking for the two girl cats, fearing they’d discovered the duct open and were now partying somewhere between the floor and the crawlspace.

The girls, thankfully, were oblivious. (Heaven help us all if Amara discovers the vent covers are removable — she’ll shove the other two into the ducts, replace the cover, and walk away like a boss.)

Lately, Malachi has discovered the tissue boxes.

All of them.

The kind of boxes where a single tissue sticks out of the top and dispenses one at a time.

He likes to remove the tissues from the box. One at a time. From all the boxes.

So we store our bananas in the cabinet, we’ve moved the lamps so he can’t lick lightbulbs, and now, if you come to our house and wonder why all of the tissue boxes are upside down, you’ll know why. We also have things sitting on the register vents until the poor, brain-damaged kitty forgest the vent covers are removable.

He can’t help it. He had a rough start in life, and, despite our best efforts to get him on track, he’s just…


Bless his heart. He just can’t even with hardly anything.

When we moved the lamp away from the bookcase, poor Malachi was literally jaw-dropped and cried after me most of the day. He jumped to the top of the case, reared back on his hind legs, and put his front toes on the ceiling. He looked like a meerkat trying to worship the creator posing like that. He studied the ceiling, glanced at the floor lamp across the room, now out of reach, and went back to staring at the ceiling. Praying, maybe, that the higher power would prod me to replace his licking lamp.

The other day he was on top of the refrigerator, “measuring” whether or not he could reach the lights on the kitchen ceiling. He cannot. Reach those lights.

But, he seems to think his ideas are bright ones. He’s a few wavelengths short of a full spectrum.

Come to think of it, perhaps that’s why he needs to lick the bulbs.

Poor guy. I, too, am plagued with the occasional “bright idea that isn’t.”

Many times, I overestimate the time and mental energy I’ll have to get my to-do list done.

My recent bright idea was to join NaNoWriMo. For those unfamiliar, that stands for National Novel Writing Month. Basically, you set aside all sanity and write a novel in 30 days during the month of November.

At the time of this writing, I’m 14,000 words in to my 50,000 word goal. I’ll keep you updated.

I’m currently in a love/hate relationship with this challenge. I love getting the words in. I hate the “hanging over my head” part of it—especially with Thanksgiving coming up and several doc appointments for several folks on the horizon.

I love the idea for the book (which is based on a short story I wrote for a class during the Vegas trip this past summer). I hate that my tertiary characters believe they need a spotlight scene every five chapters. They do not. Need a spotlight scene. They’re tertiary.

I love that I’ll have a finished novel at the end of this ordeal. I hate that I started a new one while there’s a different novel in my work-in-progress folder that I abandoned and can’t seem to return to.

I love that I finally feel I’ve broken through the significant writing block that has spanned many, many months. I hate never-ending day-job obligations that eat away a chunk of the day before I can sit down and have fun with words.

I must’ve been truly certifiable to try this challenge, this, of all years, given the CIRCUS. How dare I believe I can hold cast members and plot lines together when I can’t keep track of the location of very large appliances in my house or remember that I’m currently frying sausage?

I must be a wavelength short.

I know I’m going to have burnt sausage.

Perhaps Malachi has some tips for me.

He can surely point me in the direction of the best-tasting lightbulbs.

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