I'M STILL HERE---CONTINUED

Didn't have time yesterday in my blog to cover all events of the past ten days.  On the way up to the wedding, we all spent the night with one of Miss Creative's sisters.  (I haven't yet figured out just how many sisters she has.  Too many, perhaps?)  The next morning I had time to make a short tour of the estate.  First visit was to the flower garden, where---the night before---I had noticed evidence of small furry creatures.

The search in the flower garden for...um, breakfast...proved disappointing, so I decided to stretch my wings on a short flight.  Along the way, I investigated several convenient tree tops.  (There weren't any pine trees nearby, so I had to make do with maples.  Inferior to pines, of course.)

The exciting part happened when I was resting in this oaklet.  See me up there?  I turned around to observe the view in the other direction---and saw a building.  A perfect, red-painted building, with a beautiful dark green door.  So THIS was why the Fates had dragged me along on this horrendous, endless trip.   I would FINALLY have that house of my own.  The one Miss Creative kept talking about.  But did nothing about.  Who would have guessed that it was actually Miss Creative's sister who would provide me with my house?  (Perhaps too many sisters are...just enough sisters?)

I flapped over immediately to examine the building more closely.  It was the perfect size for me.  Well, maybe a bit on the large size---but I could manage.  There would be a cozy fireplace inside, I was positive, and a wide pine board floor---my favorite kind.  And an old-fashioned porcelain sink---so hard to find these days---and probably even some handy built-in shelves for storing my supplies.  Not to mention a lovely rope bed with a crackling straw-stuffed mattress, and...

But it was my fate on this morning to suffer a cruel disappointment.  This building was not a house.  I was shocked.  Instead this beautiful building contained only a huge ugly METAL contraption called A GENERATOR.   Ugh.   I haven't recovered fully from this blow.  I fear that Miss Creative's promise of a house of my own is just that---an empty promise.