Charmed, I'm sure

 I was scrolling down YouTube and saw a video title that I thought was “charming mistakes you may be making.” Intrigued, I looked closer and saw it really was “cleaning mistakes you may be making.” Shucks.

But it reminded me of an interior conversation I had yesterday. I had made a nice cup of coffee, and put it on my desk and then went to quickly do something—I forget what. I got distracted and much later I remembered my coffee and realized it had probably gone cold.

“Oh, Jan,” I said to myself, “you are so”—I paused—“cute. What delightfully amusing things you do.” That was not where I was originally headed, but I wanted to be kind to myself.

Three is enough

 Day three of inclement weather. No more snow since yesterday—instead, freezing rain, which is worse. It just covers every surface with a coat of ice. Now it’s just inching above 32° Fahrenheit. (I’m so proud I spelled Fahrenheit correctly on my first attempt.) It’s sprinkling rain. Where there is snow, it’s just getting rained on. Where the snow was light (under a slatted shelter) it has turned to slush. Rain and this temperature make everything slippery.

I can own to a slight feeling of ennui. All my needs are provided for. I’m not short of food or necessary supplies (read: toilet paper). The power is on, the heater works, and I am warm (enough) and dry. But the confinement becomes just a little tedious.

On Facebook, my friends with school-age children are expressing their anticipation of Monday and—they hope!—schools opening back up. Lots of businesses have been posting closures or shortened hours both for safety of their patrons and because employees can’t come in. It’s starting to look a lot like covid. But, thankfully, it will not last so long. 

What a drag the pandemic was. I attribute my mental breakdown a couple years age to covid isolation. I’m still recovering. I never actually got covid, itself, ironically, but it still made me ill.

But let’s talk about more pleasant things. Um… January is more than half over—hurrah! The winter holidays are like wonderful food, and the post-holiday season is like acid reflux. Oops, forgot to be pleasant.

Handiwork, such as knitting or needlepoint, has been in abeyance ever since I brought home Beatrice three years ago. Each year for three years I adopted a puppy. Puppies are ebullient. Energetic. Lively. Hyper. Every time I sit on my couch, I am swarmed by ebullient, energetic, lively little furballs, all anxious to lick my face and also to prevent the other two from sharing in that pleasure. They wiggle and wag and chew each other’s faces and paw at me and climb up my person as though a wonderful prize waited at the top. My face, lickable. 

By now, Beatrice is three and no longer inclined to chew my fingers and anything they’re holding (like knitting needles). Benedict is two, and calmer than he used to be. Rosamond is one and still highly excitable, and her antics influence Benedict. So it’s just not relaxing or tranquil to sit on the couch, and working on a craft is impossible. I’m hoping Rosamond starts to calm down as she passes her second birthday this summer.

We have reached maximum puppy.

Snow and forgetfulness

 This time the predicted storm did show up. I woke up in the morning to couple inches of snow and now (early afternoon) a few more inches. I am snug inside.

Rosamond bounds into the snow.

My dogs have varying reactions to the snow. Beatrice, my chihuahua mix, has no interest at all in going out in the snow. Meanwhile, Rosamond finds it exciting and goes leaping through the drifts. Benedict, the chiweenie, follows Rosamond's lead but is not quite as eager to jump around in what, to small dogs, is deep snow—especially for Benedict, with his short, wiener-dog legs.

I don't like to leave them outside too long in the cold, so they're all back inside. I can hear my nephew and his little girl playing in the snow. My dogs hear them too. so Benedict keeps barking. He's the barkiest of the three. I keep sternly telling him, "No! Be quiet!" which is often effective for up to a minute and a half.

I was sitting at my desk this morning when I suddenly recalled, with a sense of panic, that I have jury duty this week. I've been supposed to call the jury message line the past three evenings to find out if I need to come in the following day. I completely spaced it. So I called the number and the message says no jurors are needed this week. Phew. I trust that is true retrospectively to Monday. If I missed showing up when I was supposed to, no doubt I will hear about it. I believe that failing to appear in response to a summons is contempt of court. In my case, it was not contempt but oblivion. I'll have to throw myself on the mercy of the court, if the need arises.

Time to stay home

 Well, the blizzard tentatively predicted last week did not materialize. We had the wind and the cold (very cold), but not the snow. Now there's another winter storm watch out for starting tonight. Not blowing snow, as far as I understand, but frozen rain and snow. That will make for horrendous driving. It will be good weather for staying inside.

When I saw the prediction I thought I'd better run to the store again to stock up. But when I started to think of a list, I realized I am still pretty stocked up from last week. There are a few things it would be nice to have but not enough to make it worthwhile to drive to the store. To paraphrase some designer or other, "Take no drive that you do not know to be useful or believe to be enjoyable." I'm a great one for staying home. It's what I've longed for every morning since fifth grade.

As long as I have enough coffee, I'm good. I will hope for no power outage, although even that I can live through. I fortunately live in a neighborhood where we don't get many outages, even when lots of other areas do, and, when we do lose power, it doesn't usually last long.

There was an era in my lifetime when, after a power outage, I had to go reset the time on my microwave, alarm clock by my bed, television or video player, and sometimes even my coffee maker. Now there are just two clocks in my home. One is my phone, which is not affected by a power outage. The other is my Zaanse clock, which likewise is not affected. It runs on weights, gears, and a pendulum. It does lose about 10 minutes a week, so that I have to push the minute hand ahead every Saturday when I also pull the chains to bring the weights back up. That clock is not for accurate time-keeping but for chiming and contributing to the homely ambiance.

My folks bought this clock while they were stationed in the Netherlands (with the U.S. Air Force). It is not any super-valuable antique but it has sentimental value for me.

Being the tortoise

Tuesday. This is the second day of what I consider my true retirement. Although my last full day of work was at the end of December, the first week of January consisted of holiday and vacation days, so I still was employed. I did go into the office at the end of Friday for my own retirement party. That was so nice. Present and past co-workers said lovely things to me and gave me lovely gifts. 

Then was a weekend, which, of course, I would have had off even if I were working. Then yesterday was Monday, my first non-working work day. 

I have the goal for the start of my retirement to get my house clean, organized, and de-cluttered. I have made some progress yesterday and today. Small progress, but I tell myself that any progress is progress. I will not internalize any discouraging words trying to convince me that small progress isn’t good enough. I'm like the tortoise in "The Tortoise and the Hare." Slow and steady wins the race.

My dad used to say, "We're off like a herd of turtles," so there you go.

One thing I did over the past couple days is lay in supplies, in case we get a blizzard (Northeaster) that weather people are saying is possible. I also have some paperwork that I need to complete related to a source of income.

Another thing to anticipate is jury duty. I’ve received a summons. Now I have all the time in the world to spend on a jury if I am selected. I’ll have to call in every evening to see if I must report to the courthouse. As a legal assistant, I visited the courthouse fairly often in the course of my job. The last time I was there, I thought that it would be the last time I was there. The joke’s on me. Maybe. I may just call in every night and never have to show up.

Morning view from my deck chair while the dogs frolic. I'm in no rush.