Slow and Deliberate

Not much accomplished at the museum today, everyone was wearing their coats. With one boiler out, it was cold. Dennis, our boiler man, called in the afternoon and said that he had the new starter motor, and could someone stay in the building while he installed it, running into after-hours, and Charlotte and Mark said they'd stay as long as it took. A little before four they told me to go home. Tough going right now, walking in and out, the snow is crusted and the footing isn't great. I'm very slow and deliberate, and look where every next step falls. I stop more often, not because I'm winded, but because I want to look around. Usually I'm looking around the entire walk, but now I'm looking at where I place my feet. A large buck deer has been on the driveway, his tracks are three times the size of the doe tracks I usually see. My drainage system is frozen, so I'm using a dishpan, and I have to throw it out, and my piss pot, every morning. It's supposed to get above freezing tomorrow, which will make a mess, but is welcome nonetheless. It's been too cold to function normally, everything becomes a struggle. I look like Basho, with his staff, coming home at night, holding a lantern to light his way. Billy, at the pub, stood me to lunch and two beers for providing them with tablecloths, I took a rain-check on the two beers, but I had a steak-burger and mac-and-cheese for lunch, half of which served me also for dinner. The ridge is locked into winter. There's a path that leads down the driveway, there's a path that leads to the woodshed. It's a cold hard world.