It’s very clear to me that I am not a squeamish person. Last night one of the cats brought a bird into the house. It was consumed except for the wings and the feathers, which were spread all along the triangle where floor meets roof next to my desk. It was too much after a long day, so I pretended I hadn’t seen it.
But this morning, I couldn’t pretend any longer. I got to work and tidied it up.
Having learned from last time, I knew the longer feathers would get stuck in the vacuum, so I picked them up one by one, then vacuumed up the smaller feathers using the mini motorized attachment and the crevice tool. The right equipment and technique made the process a lot faster and less frustrating.
So now I have a Feather Protocol.
I also learned last time (go ahead and visualise this; please laugh loudly) that emptying feathers from the vacuum into the kitchen trash can is a bad move, so I took everything outside and opened the Dyson into the compost pile. The long feathers were too beautiful to just toss, so I arranged some of them on the big stone in the patio.
And then I looked up and saw that the rising sun was creating a beautiful light show with the cherry tree over the cemetery, so I snapped a photo.
The world is a beautiful place in all its detail, even when it requires a cleaning protocol.
