In the morning, I usually check the news and the weather and email, and maybe surf a bit. Today, I did the first three and then decided I wanted to check on a couple of books at Goodreads. And so I did; I was reading about one novel when I noticed a small insert on the side of the page. It included a small picture of three book covers (I am trying to give myself a reason for my misinterpretation here – hence the double use of the word “small”.) At any rate, the book in the middle was “A Cupboard Full of Goats” and my curiosity was piqued.

I’d watched the movie “Men Who Stare at Goats” so I thought, well, why not take a closer look at this book? As it turns out, the real title is “A Cupboard Full of Coats.” I was bummed. I know, I know: the book is probably a good one about a group of people – a family or bridge club or whatever who hang their coats together. All sorts of stories could come out of the cupboard.

But I was psyched for goats. Knowing me, I may have to designate a cupboard in my house as the Goat One. (I’d slam the barn door on that idea, but the horse is already out.) I’m getting too old for all this stuff for when I was younger, it made me eccentric, but now that I am hard onto my significant next birthday, I’m afraid it would be interpreted as “Oh, she’s in her dotage.”

A further complication: Why isn’t the cupboard called a closet if it holds coats? Are they folded and stored? Well, that introduces possibilities of a different plot. Still a personal type story, but addressing other, maybe sadder, plot developments. I’m going to have to look it up now, because I CAN NEVER JUST LEAVE WELL ENOUGH ALONE.

Still, I’m not giving up my Goat Cupboard.