An Experiment

I needed to determine if I could actually be away from home for a night, dead of winter, which it's not, really anymore, I err on the side of caution, but I did spend the night at the museum. That drive in, day before yesterday, was a nightmare, and the drive out yesterday was difficult. I did pack my kit-bag, a pillow, a blanket, and some slippers. My foot still hurts but is better, I think, using the Arnica ointment Linda sent. At the very least I will save: two walks up and down the hill, a drive to town and back, and whatever firewood I might have burned. And I can see how cold the house will actually get. I left one of the small heaters on low. I got up early enough to build a good fire and heat the place to 58 degrees. I think I'm losing my chronological sense. My tenses are more and more screwed up, or maybe not. I argued with someone recently that tense was always of the moment, but that I often remembered the past in the present. Pegi had a couple Cirque kids bring over a tumbling pad, I was going to sleep on ethafoam, but the pad is pretty nice. So I worked yesterday right up to 5 o'clock and I was all in. I told the remaining peeps to lock the doors but don't turn on the alarm, I'll be the guard dog tonight. I got everything done, everything, really, I checked with everyone. I lunched the artist and his curator at the pub; I moved chairs around, I repositioned tables. Apparent reality is a very flexible thing. Sometimes, in my considering, it changes. Sleep alone, in a dark space that is huge, where the sound of boilers makes voices in the night. I could imagine some fiction here, where something happened. But nothing did, I slept a few hours and read a lot, except that I wasn't talking with you about what was happening. So there was a difference. I spent the night in a warm museum, washed my hair in the kitchen sink; shaved, this morning, in the warmest place that I have shaved in for at least six weeks. I had the house back from 38 to 58 degrees in two hours. Yes, I can go away, but I really don't want to, there is no place I would go. One of the hardest things I've done recently, was not to go home last night. I knew it was ok, but I wanted some resistance, at least a hit on a fly I'd tied. Nothing seems to be my habitation. I'd better send this now, it's looking terrible out.