Does Mrs. Fuzzy REALLY like it here?

Um, yes. I do. Why do you ask?

Any moment of the day or night I can, in complete safety, walk into the woods or field and quietly listen to bird- bug- or frog-song. There is soft, rich, green, grass under my bare feet and plenty of work to do with my hands. Inside may still be total chaos but there is great joy to be had within our cluttered walls. You all know how excited I was to have a properly working oven (and it gets regular use) but little did I know the pleasure I’d get in my kitchen from being the subject of Cat TV. There is a shed under the big window which the cats have designated “home base.” It’s lovely to look out at them looking in at us. Beyond the observation platform is beautiful apple tree. Under it lies Nutmeg who seems content for the first time in her 13 years. How can I not also be content?

I also have a little studio that is usable for reading right now. When we’ve created some proper storage space elsewhere this room will have areas for sewing, crafting, and writing. Finally I have that fabled “Room of My Own.” No sharing whatsoever. The companion idea of tearing apart a great big, ugly, and totally redundant bathroom send thrills through my bones. I like designing stuff! .... especially when it's useful and adds beauty to my home.

While I’m not a television enthusiast, I am a fan of sitting on the couch with Mr. Fuzzy who does enjoy perusing the cable listings for interesting programs. We've never had cable before! It’s a time for closeness, amusement, and enjoying some of my baking or a bowl of local ice cream. Sharing that bowl of ice cream in front of the tube makes even the worst day better by bedtime. Yes, Mrs. Fuzzy is quite content about 95% of the time.

So what ruins my little paradise five percent of the time? Clutter and situations where I must interact with lots of people or just a few for a long time. It’s not that I dislike people. You all just make me really tired after two or three hours. No fault on your part. Just a fact. I’d rather be away with the fairies or carrying rocks across the yard. I’ll add in the occasional trip to a certain grocery to this list too. The staff can be a bit doo-lally in that way I though we’d left in Santa Fe. Said store also has major problems with stock rotation and restocking. A trip to get organic canola oil can send me home ready to strangle helpless animals.

There you have it, dear friends: a reassurance that Mrs. Fuzzy is basically happy so long as she can make weekly progress with the clutter, avoid crystal-gazing flakes, and limit her contact with people who want her to act like a social butterfly. I keep to my garden and my errands and I have a happy time of it. I feel welcome and accepted no matter what I look like. Floydians aren’t the same breed as your typical Southerner (other Virginians use more colorful language) so we’ve suffered neither Bible-bashing nor Yankee-bashing. That’s just not the attitude here. If you’re willing to live rural then the locals are willing to let you be whomever you happen to be. The natives don't care if you're from away.

That’s the definition of paradise for me…