Less is Better -- by KittyCat

It’s crazy. Seems like humans can never make up their minds—do they want more or less?

Like, Mom tells writers how less is better. “Write tight,” she says. But then she says ya gotta learn lots of words. If it’s not smart to use them, why learn them? I don’t use lots of big words (unless my tabby friend Snook is here to spell them), and know what? People read my blogs more than Mom’s stuff.

Thinking about stuff, it looks like people always want more of it, and if they’re just getting married, they want it to match. Then, after they’re married a few years, people look around and say something about the year a certain color got popular. Result? –Garage sale time. They gotta get rid of those out-of-style red dishes and get purple ones. I don’t get it.

I’d marry Snookie if I could, and that’s all I’d want—just her—just the two of us living together. We could share a dish and it could be any color. I think that’s how it is with my human cousin, Turner, cuz his face gets a happy look when the name Destinie comes up. That’s his pretty wife and my new human cousin since they got married one year ago today.

I’ll have to get into Mom’s card basket and send them a card. Mom has tons of cards, but they don’t take much space like dishes or clothes in closets. It’s plain nutty to hear women talk about clothes. Like a flowery top’s gotta have the exact same color in it as a skirt or pair of pants, or the outfit’s all wrong.

Dad doesn’t care about all that color matching. He mostly likes jeans, and everything goes with jeans. If he doesn’t use something very often, he keeps it for years until it wears out (or Mom throws it out.) A couple of winters ago, some kid offered to finish shoveling a whole lot of snow in a trade for Dad’s snow boots. Ha, ha—not cuz the kid needed to keep his feet dry, but cuz Dad’s boots are so old, they’re cool. “Original moon boots,” the boy said. 

"Guess I'll keep them, at least till the snow melts," Dad said.

Mom’s got three pair of black snowboots, looking pretty new. She’s got three pairs of black pants, too, all kinds of white tops, and even two black and white ones. She’d have lots more room in her closets if she got rid of all but the black and white. When the colored shoes went to the thrift store they’d have shoes to match all the handbags Mom got rid of last spring.

Black and white. That’s me—a handsome tuxedo cat.

Less is better. Who needs bunches of anything when a wee bit of the right stuff works just fine.

© 2012, Bernice W. Simpson