I sent a story off to my editor tonight, put some beans on to soak, picked out a good book, and now I wait. There’s a storm coming.
My cousin Charlie once told me that people in his Baltimore area headed to the store for milk, bread and toilet paper–necessities of life, I guess–whenever a couple inches of snow were forecast. We’re expecting 7-11 inches in the next two days, along with some freezing drizzle, and the only thing we’re doing is planning how to spend our snow day.
Some people, alas, must go to work. For them I pray safe travels. Some people, God forbid, may have medical conditions or emergencies that will require venturing out in the storm. But George and I are retired and relatively healthy and we intend to enjoy the coming couple of days.
I worked enough years that I can still appreciate a “free” day, a day when I have no obligations, and have the perfect excuse to goof off. The fact that the goofing off has to happen inside is no hardship at all, not when there are so many fun things to do in this house.
Nothing momentous, you understand. That’s another thing life has taught me. It’s the little, familiar, comforting things, the small pleasures, that are the most fun to savor when when time is on your side.
We’ll probably sleep in a bit, or wake up at our usual time and lie there talking, laughing, making room for the dog, savoring the warmth of thick bed linens and body heat. We’ll linger over breakfast after I’ve put those soaking beans on to cook, along with a nice, meaty smoked ham shank. Fifteen kinds of beans, to which will be added spicy curry powder. Corn bread, some healthy raisin-oatmeal cookies–ah yes, the kind of meal that thumbs its nose at winter’s bluster.
My Morning Prayer, beside a flickering candle, will be enjoyed with a cup of hazelnut creme coffee, or maybe cherry creme. George’s guitar will weep and wail, I suspect, and my sewing machine may hum a bit as I enjoy tending to neglected projects. There may be a cut-throat game or two of backgammon on the agenda, and for sure we’ll both adjourn to our recliners at some point and bury ourselves in our current novels–a thriller for me, a Heinlein for George, I suspect.
We’ll have to venture out long enough for Lady to do her business,
but being a smart beagle, she won’t insist on a long trek when the wind blows up her nose and flares her ears like Dumbo’s. No, she’ll squat quickly and head back for the house even more quickly, where her favorite spot on the couch will still be warm where she left it.
I’ve got letters to write–and who knows, maybe even another blog. The TV won’t figure into this scenario, though. George and I don’t give it a thought all day, but save MASH or Waltons or Star Gate DVDs for that time after supper when the light is gone and night presses against the windows.
The only thing that would disappoint tomorrow is if the snow doesn’t show, if the storm wimps out. If that happens, I might have to do something really constructive, and after all the weather hype of the past week, I’m just not in the mood for constructive.
So come on, Winter. Don’t fail me now.