
“Are you okay today?”
“Yes Gibbs, why do you ask?”
“Because a few days ago, you didn’t seem okay.”
“When was that?”
“The day when you went out on that thing with two wheels. When you put on different clothes and left for a few hours.”
“Oh, you mean when I went for a bike ride and came home with green paint down one arm and on most of my fingers?”
“I guess. You seemed pretty mad.”
“Yeah, I blew my lid over that one. Someone from the parks department painted the inside of the ladies’ restroom door and didn’t put up a warning sign. So, when I finished my business…”
“You mean used the litter box?”
“For humans, buddy, it’s a toilet or privy or loo or a number of other words, but not a litter box. Anyhow, when I finished, I went to push the door open and because it was a heavy door, I grabbed the handle and pushed with my forearm. Then I noticed the door was sticky and realized the paint was wet.”
“What did you do then?”
“As I said, I blew my lid.”
“What does that mean?”
“I got mad and swore. Said inappropriate, bad words. A lot. All the while trying to wash off the paint with soap and rub it off with toilet paper. That was a lost cause, so I said a few more bad words and left.”
“Is that when you came home?”
“No. I wasn’t done with the bike ride. It was a beautiful day and I wanted to keep going, so I did.”
“With wet paint?”
“With the washing and toilet paper, I got the paint to a dried state. There wasn’t much else I could do until I got home.”
“Okay, so blowing your lid means being mad and swearing?”
“It means losing your temper, which tends to happen when someone is mad. It doesn’t always include the swearing part.”
“Oh.”
“I’ve blown my lid over other things, Gibbs, and sometimes I’m not proud of it.”
“Why is that?”
“Because I feel foolish about it later, that I could have reacted better in that situation.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever blown my lid.”
“No, Gibbs. You may be annoying and noisy at times, but I’ve never seen you get hissy or in a huff over anything.”
“Ziva used to hiss a lot.”
“That’s because you liked to chase her when she wasn’t in the mood, ya goof.”
“Oh yeah. So lid means anger, right?”
“No lid is also something that covers your opened can of cat food or a jar of pickles. Or a lid could be a hat.”
“I’m glad you have a lid for my food. It’s not very tasty when it’s dried out.”
“Gibbs?”
“Yes?”
“Focus. I know it’s hard for a cat, but we have to nail this down so everyone reading this can move on to better things.”
“You have my attention.”
“Blowing my lid is a phrase and it means I got angry and lost my temper. Some would say that it’s understandable given the green paint fiasco.”
“Is it?”
“Maybe, but I should learn to take something like that in stride rather than letting it upset me. I’m glad I got over myself and finished the bike ride, and I’m somewhat laughing about it today.”
“So, you forgive whoever painted the door and forgot to put up a sign?”
“Only if I can figure out how to get two little green paint spots out of my bike shirt. Otherwise, mostly forgiven Gibbs. Mostly forgiven.”
“Good, because now you can go out in the kitchen, remove the lid from a can, and allow me to forgive you for being late with breakfast.”
“Oh, yeah, sorry buddy.”
“No problem, mom, but it’s a good thing I don’t know how to swear.”

Stream of Consciousness Saturday is the brainchild of author Linda G. Hill. Every Friday, Linda provides her followers with an inspiring blogger’s prompt. It can be a word or words and sometimes bonus points are involved (my favorite). Linda asks us to write without editing, other than correcting spelling errors.
Just go with the flow.
Like a babbling brook or rain drops. Click HERE if this type of writing floats your boat or helps with your decision-making. Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “lid.” Use it in the literal sense, use it in the metaphorical sense, use it any way you’d like. Have fun!
Very well done, Mary. I’m glad you can look back and laugh and almost forgive the &*%$ who painted the door. Sorry you’re still fighting the last few specs of green. Perhaps it’s a badge of honor now. I am impressed that you continued the ride – all was not lost. Tell Gibbs if he needs lessons in swearing, he can call MuMu. I left my headset on her shelf again.
I hope you have a great weekend. Now, feed that poor boy.
No, no, no…Gibbs does not need lessons in swearing. His crying is enough and he’s thankfully quiet and sleeping right now.
I wonder if anyone else touched that door before or after me and if so, is the victim just as almost forgiving as I?
Happy Saturday and weekend, Dan!
You’re a good person to forgive in this case. I mean, how hard would it have been to hang a sign. Around here, the paint stores give the signs away for free.
When I left to refill my coffee, I returned to see MuMu at the keyboard. Gibbs might be getting an email 😉
Uh-oh. Gibbs is hunched on his cat tree, looking suspiciously guilty…
so cute and funny – now )
Yes, funny now, Beth. Not so much then. 😶🙄😏
Exactly
Sorry about the green paint fiasco but I did enjoy this story. I’m glad you’re able to laugh a little bit about it today. Considering the other alternatives, wet paint is not the worst you could have been splattered with during your bike ride. This part … Gibbs? Yes? Focus … had me laughing out loud.
I know. It’s bad enough that I have my own version of attention deficit, but for Gibbs the cat…or any cat…it’s unavoidable unless you hold a piece of chicken in front of their nose.
Gibbs was working hard to understand and seemed sympathetic which was sweet. As for the paint, I probaby would have taken a photo of my green skin and sent it to the facility staff just as an FYI to put up a sign. Forgiveness is such a process, so forgiving them “mostly” is pretty good.
I did take a photo, but I didn’t contact the parks department. By the time I got home and cleaned up, I figured the paint would be dry and there would be no need for a sign. Maybe I was too forgiving about this?
Forgivness is a good thing. I wouldn’t want someone to get in trouble, but they should put up a sign next time.
Great conversation with your cat. You better fed Gibbs now that he knows how to blow a lid.
Gibbs will be fed soon and hopefully before I make him mad. 😼
The picture you posted made him appear to have a mad, hungry look in his eyes.
Gibbs is generally gentle and cute, but all cats have some form of the “I will kill you if you don’t do my bidding” look in their eyes. I think Gibbs does it for effect, even when it’s not time to eat. To keep me in line. :-p
Aw, super cute story! Just curious…how did you come up with that story from the word lid? I only ask because it is short but very in-depth and I just find that interesting.
Thank you for the positive feedback! The story wrote itself after the green paint incident last Wednesday and “lid” was the perfect foil. I’ve written conversations with Gibbs and with him and his dearly departed house sister in the past, so they come fairly naturally when I’m inspired.
ah, the green paint story was true! that makes more sense. I guess I would just have to wonder where that would come from without some sort of prompting idea! Gibbs is adorable and although I don’t write them down, I do have conversations like that with my dog, Brody. I guess I just know exactly what he is thinking! Lol.
Great story, Mary! Sticky wet paint is worse that wet, wet paint, too. It’s nice Gibbs is such a good listener – and patient about his breakfast.
Thanks Maggie. Gibbs has been fed and all is right in his world. 😉
It helps to have an understanding muse. When well fed of course.
Gibbs is always willing to help when food is involved, but I also tend to believe he likes me. 😏😼
Always love a conversation with an interesting cat like Gibbs.
He does love to talk, Herman!
I was in Boy Scouts. We called it a “kybo”.
Thanks for that, John. I learned something new today!
I would have been furious if it got on my clothes. Just don’t tell Gibbs where your paintbrushes are. Youknow, just in case he gets a bur up his butt. 🤭
I have one very small paint brush locked away and Gibbs does not have opposable thumbs, so I’m safe!