Hi, I’m Ali Baba. Welcome to my cave.
I’m here to type a blog but I’d rather be hanging out in the Cave of Wonders. Yes, I finally got me a cave. It was hidden under boxes of storage and layers of dust, but it was successfully excavated and suddenly we had an empty room. Possession being 9/10th’s of the law, I immediately moved in. I brought a warm hat, a few books, a Qur’an, a prayer rug and 10 pillows. Over time, I also stole:
1.) the lamp from the computer room
2.) the carpet from the living room (mom said I could)
3.) the furniture from the family room (we never sat on it anyway)
4.) a sewing basket to put prayer rugs in
5.) Four terra cotta pots from the dining room
6.) a few tasbihs from said pots
7.) the warm green stadium blanket from my brother’s room
8.) two strings of lights from my mother’s Christmas tree
Yes, it is a wondrously wondrous cave of wonders, the Christmas lights twinkle and the prayer rug is always ready for take-off. (All Aboard the Jannah Express!) The sound is softened by the carpet and the little lamp is perfect for reading in what would otherwise be darkness. There are other lights, but if I turned them on then the Christmassy ones wouldn’t be quite so wondrous.
So I got me a cave. Sometimes I sneak off into it and think thoughtful thoughts. Other times I lie there and read Ivanhoe.
“Amen!” answered the Jester. “A broadcloth penitent should have a sackcloth confessor, and your frock may absolve my motley doublet into the bargain.”
Yet other times, I just lay on the carpet. All in all, not a lot goes on in the Cave of Wonders since the biannual bandit’s convention was moved to the Kitchen of Cut-throatery, but that’s the way it should be. You need to have quiet on the outside before you can have quiet on the inside. You can’t make stillness out of turbulence, and although there are other quiet places in the house (the Bathroom of Tranquillity?) it’s not the same. The Cave of Wonders exists outside of the house and is not bound by domestic happenstance.
And plus, it has ten pillows. And on a random note:
Where’s Owlie. Like Where’s Waldo, only different.