Getting Clean

Odd weather. 48 degrees at six this morning, the house was warm and I was dirty, so I started a fire and heated water. Sponge bath, washed my hair. Temperature dropping all day, supposed to be in the teens tonight, then colder. Glad I got clean when I did as I don't do much personal hygiene when it gets below zero outdoors. I'm pretty well set, as I had been expecting a bout of serious weather. It's blowing in now, on a stiff breeze, with sleet and snow in the forecast. I've already read my library books and the current New Yorker, but I have quite the pile of new books, I have plenty of food and whiskey and tobacco, and an extensive reference library where I can amuse myself for hours. And when it gets very cold, I move over to a rocking chair, right in front of the stove, and read Dorothy Sayers. It's a system that works for me. Below zero (below 10 degrees actually) it's survival mode.The wind is howling through the stick trees, your eyes tear-up instantly, and then the tears freeze, your feet stick to the ground; better to stay inside and reread all of Pynchon. When I wake up to pee and stoke the stove, I can hear tiny ice pellets striking the leaf-litter. I put some marrow bones on to simmer, marrow on bagels is a nice snack; and the liquid, reduced chicken stock and wine, makes a fine beverage. At some point, near midnight, the wind is a deep hollow drone, punctuated with branches snapping off and falling, and I curl up on the sofa, with a lap blanket and an array of snacks. My headlamp within reach, a back-up bottle of whiskey stashed over with the onions, I wasn't concerned about my well-being, I seem to live through things. Chipped beef and gravy, mac and cheese, wild greens and a vinaigrette. Biscuits could solve most of the world's problems.