The Yellow Wallpaper

Every now and then, when I'm bored, I lay in my bed and stare at the ceiling.  It is quite an interesting ceiling to say the least.  There is a guinea pig, a goat, a cowboy, and an airplane up there.  Well, sometimes the cowboy looks like a dragon.  It really just depends on the day.  I made my husband dissect the ceiling with me one evening.  He didn't see the same things as I did.  I would say, "Look! Right there! It's a goat. Can't you see it?"  He replied, "No, it's an ostrich."  I still don't know how he could have confused a goat with an ostrich.  Now he can't lay on his back in bed or he is automatically drawn into the wonder which is our ceiling.  I thought about buying those stick up stars that glow in the dark to keep from investigating the ceiling further.  After thinking about it though, I realized I would just stare at the stars and wonder what was underneath them on the ceiling.  It would drive me crazy for sure. 

I can relate to Charlotte Perkins Gilman and her story "The Yellow Wallpaper."  I require a lot of imaginative stimulation throughout the day.  If I do not get it, I search for it on ceilings.  A couple months ago, my dog ate (not chewed...actually ate!) almost every power cord in the house.  My computer cord, my phone charger, and my nook charger were gone.  Imagine having no way to entertain oneself for almost a week.  I did laundry, rearranged my children's bedrooms, reorganized things in my closet, and I even color coded the papers in our filing cabinet.  Finally, I just stared at the ceiling.

(Can you see the guinea pig???)

Happiness Makes Up In Height For What It Lacks In Length

Oh, stormy stormy world,
The days you were not swirled
Around with mist and cloud,
Or wrapped as in a shroud,
And the sun's brilliant ball
Was not in part or all
Obscured from mortal view-
Were days so very few
I can but wonder whence
I get the lasting sense
Of so much warmth and light.
If my mistrust is right
It may be altogether
From one day's perfect weather,
When starting clear at dawn,
The day swept clearly on
To finish clear at eve.
I verily believe
My fair impression may
Be all from that one day
No shadow crossed but ours
As through its blazing flowers
We went from house to wood
For change of solitude.

This poem reminds me of The Storm by Kate Chopin.