What Was That?

Crash.  What was that?  Six-forty-five in the morning and there is glass smashing out in my back yard.  Meditation is a fine thing to a point, but smashing glass trumps transcendence.   A large glass fixture, the size of a round watermelon is lying on the ground.  Where it used to be fixed there are now two raw wire ends.  Apparently, it just fell. 

I rent my home back in New York.  It would be almost impossible to receive a message from the tenant that something “just fell.”  “What does that mean?”   I took a look at the narrow passage behind the home.  I spied no ‘bad-guys.’  I considered the trees, but we have no tree-born rodents here in Beijing.  I’ve investigated about all I care to.  It just fell. 

Settling back in.  Plenty of time to resume.  Feel the pulsation of the heart sending blood throughout my body.  Slow it down now.  Will the pulsations to occur less frequently.  Let go of another stray line of thought about the meeting this afternoon.  Breathe.  Breathe.  Scratch.  Scratch.  Down on the other side of the bookshelf I’m sitting against.  Scratch, scratch, scratch.  Fucking rodent.  Is it in this room or the next?

Regular readers will recall that we had a mouse that unexpectedly expired in the bathroom last week.  Where there was one, we now apparently have more.  If he knows what’s good for him, he better stop scratching.  I slam a book against the shelf to let him know that we share the conscious atmosphere.  He ceases to scratch.  It will be while before I can move on from expecting him to resume. 

It is Saturday morning, and no one will be up for a while.