Ceramic Mugs and Kaleidoscopes

As any fan of warm beverages will know, the mug you choose just makes the entire experience. So, when I woke up and noticed the clouds heavy with rain, I had to pick out the perfect mug for the morning. Not just any mug. This particular cat mug stuck out to me at the plant shop I got it from like a sore thumb, literally, with shadowed cats entwined with shadowed plants, giving a playful nod to the famous darkened form of puppetry. This being said, I poured my steaming coffee into it and began the singlehandedly least joyful task of the entire week. My house has a tendency of eating things, and I, unfortunately, am left with the daunting task of attempting to salvage whatever my house has decided to eat from obscure crevices we commonly call dressers, but I like to call the material of my nightmares. At this point the rain was drumming against my windows, so there wasn’t exactly an escape route towards procrastination. I emptied bookshelves and tidied up ancient newspaper clippings I didn’t even know existed. I felt around darkened drawers until I wrapped my hand around something that most definitely was not one of these yellowed clippings. I pulled it out, and in my hand was a kaleidoscope. You see, on the first day of my residency the professor gave each of us our own personal kaleidoscope. After the residency, a blustering ten days that left my once solid brain feeling like gum, I put my kaleidoscope away and promptly forgot about it. Until today. I left all my books and papers askew as I played with this little kaleidoscope, putting it under different lights and making its pieces dance to make my own miniature mosaics. The wind howled, rain blustered, my shelves and my floor still just as messy as they were before, but some things, like ceramic mugs and kaleidoscopes, remind us it’s okay to mold and unmake.