Today will be 1022. I think that when I hit 1066, I should declare it William the Conqueror Day and go pillage something.
Speaking of him, I am reading a book about some of his descendants: Sharon Kay Penman’s When Christ and His Saints Slept. It’s been on my list for several months, and today I fetched it out of the stack in my studio and curled up on the couch to start reading it. Why am I lollygagging on the couch, you ask?
We got 12 inches of snow, that’s why. The office closed at 3:30. I got home around 5:00 to a warm house but no lights, food thawing in the fridge, and no internet!!! I got back in the car and made a quick run to Bueno for dinner, then came home and went to bed at 7:27, without the use of my CPAP.
Thankfully, there was hot water this morning, yay, so my skin and hair are clean. I had tried to go in to work, but the snow was over my ankles and jumped down into my shoes. So I took a day of vacation. Mid-morning, my home teacher magically appeared and shoveled a path from the porch to Lorelai. I sent most of the perishables home with him. He said he had seen a number of trees that had fallen on power lines, and several work crews out, restoring power.
The power has been back for an hour and a half now; my phone is charging, and I am checking emails.
I slept a lot last night. Or should I say, I spent a lot of time in my room, contemplating the light coming off all that snow and wishing there were enough of it for me to get up and knit, or read. I woke up several times: trips down the hall, or to get a drink, or just because. And it occurred to me, more than once, that if I were married, the evening might not have been quite so long and boring.
(Or possibly even more long and boring, if the spousal unit were determined to spend those hours in blissful unconsciousness. Which determination could render him permanently unconscious.)
Just got off the phone with Brother Sushi. My ward activity got canceled. The dance in Dallas is still on; Brother Sushi is DJ’ing. I really need to blow off some steam. They want us to dress up. This means that I need to go buy new pantyhose. This also means that I need to leave the house. And make a decision.
I think I will eat the last slice of (formerly) frozen pizza and curl up on the couch with my book, and think about it later.
- Four years into widowhood, after one year of incredible happiness and nearly 14 years of single blessedness. Have given up perfect manicures and pretty hands in order to resume playing the soprano recorder and to see if I can figure out how to play bluegrass banjo. Singing in the shower. Still really, *really* love to knit!