It’s wacky dance time. I always forget how  

exciting window-washing can be. For cats.  

Not me. Specifically, washing the sliding glass  

door on the back porch. I just step outside with  

a roll of paper towels and glass cleaner, spray  

the door, tear off a paper towel, and wipe,  

my hand moving in circles, cleaning, cleaning,  

cleaning, removing layers of dirt and grime  

blown in from the forest. And that’s all it takes.  

Visual catnip. That’s what window-washing is.  

Unable to resist, my cats hurl themselves at the  

door, leaping up, slapping the paper towel,  

attacking it through the glass, dancing on the  

tips of their toes, as I wipe the door from top  

to bottom, slowly, slowly, my hand flowing  

in a circular motion, several sets of paws  

slapping at every move I make. A wacky dance  

frenzy. My cats. Hurling themselves in the air.  

Abandoning all. To dance, to dance, to dance.  

And I’m no different. Simple pleasures inspire  

their joy. My joy. I need that too. A simple  

pleasure. For cats, it’s window-washing, the  

chance to bounce off the sliding glass door  

and perform a wacky dance. For me. What  

is it? What is it? My simple pleasure. At  

this moment. What is it? It’s backpack purses.  

Yes, I’m still obsessed with them. Today,  

I’m in the mood for change. I think I’ll switch  

from my olive green backpack to my black  

one, the one with the lime green stitching.  

Just thinking about it makes me smile. I’m  

like a cat. Simple pleasures. That’s all it takes.  

To celebrate life. To find the joy. This day.  

Any day. Just paper towels. Window-washing.  

Backpacks. And wacky, wacky dancing.  



Laura Stamps is a narrative poet and the author of several books: THE YEAR OF THE CAT, IN THE GARDEN, CAT DAZE, TUNING OUT, and more. Winner of the Muses Prize. Recipient of 7 Pushcart Prize nominations. Shortlisted in the Loft Books Poetry Competition. Twitter: @LauraStamps16.